


Breaking Heroines

by Evildragonlord101



Category: Catwoman (Comics), DCeased (DC Comics), Street Fighter, Vampirella (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Brainwashing, F/F, F/M, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Latex, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Slavery, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 143,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evildragonlord101/pseuds/Evildragonlord101
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Breaking Catwoman

Selina Kyle stopped flipping through a glossy magazine about the life-style of the super-rich and famous. Her green eyes, heavily lined in black with eye-lashes extended by thick mascara, focused intently on a picture in the magazine, her thin eyebrows knitting together in a soft frown.

"What in the world is that?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else, given the fact that she was alone in her apartment.

What Selina saw was the picture of a man standing next to a little statue. What caught her eye was its cat-like shape. The next thing that caught her eye was that it is made of gold, with diamonds liberally placed all over it. The caption read, "Mr Jonathan Smith with one of his heirlooms, a statue of a cat made by the great artist ..."

By then, the infamous alter ego of Selina – the skilled burglar who called herself the Catwoman - had lost interest. She was looking intently at all the pictures taken of the mansion that Mr Smith calls his little bachelor's pad. She also noted the helpful detail that Mr Smith will be attending a charity ball thrown the very next day organized by the wealthy playboy, Wayne, in the Gotham City Zoo, to help raise fund for its proposed wild cats enclosure, then under construction.

The article did not give an address for Mr Smith's place, of course, but it did mention it was in an exclusive district of Gotham City. There were not many of those in Gotham City nowadays. A quick reference to the city directory told Catwoman that the house could only be in one area of the city. It was time for a little footwork.

Catwoman sat up from her lounging posture on the large king-sized bed in her 'hide-out' – in truth, a luxury penthouse in an apartment building high above Gotham City's streets, bought by the ill-gotten gains of her life of crime. She was still dressed in her night-wear, which consisted entirely of a black lacy thong. She wore no bra to restrain her breasts, which – while they were not overly large – were firm and perky, with her light brown nipple pointed provocatively forward at their tips. As she stretched her long lithe body, they juggled slightly to her movement.

Catwoman got off the bed and walked towards her walk-in wardrobe. Her body – sculpted and horned through hours of work-out in weights, running, rock-climbing, hand-to-hand combat training – was lean but well-toned. The hint of hardness in her long limbs did not mar the femininity of her figure, with its hour-glass silhouette, with a narrow waist which flared out to form wide and well-rounded hips.

Selecting a black lacy bra from a drawer in the wardrobe, Catwoman hooked it up behind her back, before shuffling the elastic band of the bra up, and fitted each of her breasts in turn into the appropriate cup. When she slipped the elastic shoulder straps of the bra over her shoulders, the cups shoved her breasts together to form a deep cleavage.

Next, Catwoman selected an expensive looking dress out of the many she had hanging in her wardrobe. She knew that she had to look the part of a socialite to look as if she belonged to the area she was going to visit. It was a black silky number with a plunging neck-line that showed off her cleavage as she knelt down to select a pair of high-heeled pumps.

Then, standing up, Catwoman took a quick glance at her hair and make-up, which she had already done in anticipation of a day of shopping – plans which would now be deferred for work. Her raven black hair was cut short into a rather manly hairstyle, which nonetheless served to show off her face, with its high cheek-bones, straight nose and sensually thick lips, the latter of which was painted a glossy cherry red.

Within ten minutes, Catwoman had taken the private lift down from her penthouse to the underground garage, climbed into her Jaguar, and was roaring eastward within half an hour. Within an hour, she had located the house from a picture of the front of the house, given helpfully by the magazine. A feature that helped her identified the house was a small blue box mounted near the door that gave the name of the security firm he used. The same blue box was quite visible from outside the tall iron gates of the house.

She had gotten out of her car, put on a really large and ridiculous looking hat that at the same time hid her features from plying eyes, and went up to the gate. She pressed a buzzer several times, but there was no response. She then tried rattling the gate, and waited. There did not seem to be any roaming guard-dogs - they would have made an appearance by now. The gate did not seem to be wired either. She rattled hard enough to set off any alarm, and no one had turned up. She knew that she could scale the gates in five seconds flat. She glanced around at the neighbouring houses, and satisfied herself that the gates could not be easily seen from those houses because of the large hedges on both sides serving as fences. What she needed was a precise plan of the security system for the house.

She had those by the next morning. The moment she got back from her first recce, she got in touch with one of her many 'business associates', and had him hacked into the computer of the security firm protecting the mansion. Before the night was over, he had retrieved the necessary plans without Catwoman even having to leave her penthouse.

Catwoman looked through the plans carefully on the three large monitors of her iMac computer. They were extremely detailed and she was almost disappointed to see that the security would be minimal. She had expected that such a rich man would have paid for strong security to protect his own abode, but instead, he had chosen only a basic package. There was no armed guards, no fierce dogs, not even sensors in the garden.

The only line of defence was wired windows and doors, using contact breakers - something she knew how to disarm blindfolded. The location of the safe was almost a cliché, being hidden in a room behind a bookshelf.

Catwoman took a moment to ponder how the advance of technology had taken the challenge out of high larceny. It used to be a process where skills were important and had to be highly horned. Nowadays, a simple computer hacking job would provide everything a burglar would need to just waltz in and take what she needed. It had become a decidedly white collar job … except, of course, that the actual physical act of breaking in and taking the loot was still required.

With the plans, Catwoman was all set for the night's activities. She took a long hot shower, during which she carefully scrub herself down to remove any dead skin material that might fall off during her burglary and provide DNA evidence. Then, she blew dry her hair, combing them back over the top of her head to keep her ears exposed. Finally, she expertly put on make-up, even though much of her face would soon be covered by her costume. She placed particular attention to her green eyes, lining them with extra thick black eye-liners, and painting her eyelids with dark purple eyeshadows, before putting on thick mascara over her eyelashes. These made her eyes even more stunning. Just as importantly, it also changed the outline of her eyes, making it more difficult to identify her through her eyes. To finish off, she put on a glossy cheery red lipstick on her thick lips.

Catwoman walked over to her wardrobe, and opened her underwear drawer. She chose another pair of black lacy thong panties, similar to the one she had worn earlier as she did not want to left any panty lines visible across her butt in her costume.

Then, Catwoman turned and opened a hidden compartment to the side of the wardrobe. Here was where she kept her work clothes, the costumes that had become her trademark. She had worn different styles over the years, as her fashion sense changed, but always, the costumes were skin-tight to show off her figure. She found that if she was caught red-headed by security, the guards would usually pause for a moment in surprise as they looked at her gorgeous body, more than enough for her to gain the advantage and fight her way out of trouble.

Catwoman had on occasions been caught on camera – usually the CCTVs of the places she robbed – in her costumes, and she took great pleasure in how the media would sensationalise her exploits and used the sexiest images of her that they could find. Indeed, she had acquired quite a fan club online.

Catwoman reached in and pulled out a costume. The rich aroma of rubber filled the air. A while back, she had worn a purple spandex cat-suit for most of her 'jobs'. It was comfortable, stretching to allow her the maximum freedom of movement. It also looked great on her body. However, the increasing use of modern forensics had forced Catwoman to retire it for something that would seal her more hermitically.

Instead, Catwoman nowadays wore a black latex costume that would cover her more thoroughly, sealing her body in to reduce any chance she would leave any DNA evidence behind. She first took out the black latex catsuit. It had a long zip that ran down the back, from the back of her head, all the way down to her crotch, before extending forward over her nether region and finally going up to her abdomen. It was a double ended zip, with zippers both at the front and the rear. This would make it easier for her to relief herself, if need be, while still in the costume, without having to undress almost entirely.

Pulling the top zipper down almost all the way to the crotch, she sat down on a bench before she fed her legs one by one into the costume. The interior of the latex garment had already been powdered to allow her limbs easy passage. She pulled the leggings of the catsuit up until her feet slipped into the sealed ends of the leggings. The leggings were bent at this point to form booties, with reinforced heels so that the soft latex would not wear out in the footwear she wore.

Catwoman stood up, lifting up the top of the garment before feeding her arms into the sleeves of the garment, one by one, and pulled the shoulders of the catsuit in place over her own. Again, they slipped in easily. Like the leggings, the ends of the sleeves were sealed, ending in built-in latex gloves. Catwoman inserted her digits into the fingers of the gloves and wriggled them until they fitted snuggly. When she was done, her entire body was almost entirely covered with black latex, from her long slender neck down to the soles of her feet, with the exception of the open back of the costume.

Catwoman now reached around back, and grasped the rear zipper with her gloved fingers. She pulled up the zipper first with her right hand from below, then transferred the zipper to her left hand from above, finally sealing her body entirely in the costume with the exception of her head.

Catwoman turned and picked up a pair of boots from the floor. These were made from glossy black PVC. She put them on, and pulled up the zips on the inner sides of her lower legs. The boots had fairly low spike heels – about three inches - for her taste, but more practical for physical activities, such as climbing or fighting. The tops hugged her lower legs tightly, accentuating their lean lengths.

When Catwoman was done, she admired herself briefly in the mirror. She examined her body critically for a moment, but decided that her daily regime of exercise had managed to keep the fat at bay. The latex that stretched over her body was almost like a second skin painted over every curve of her body, with the curvatures of her hips and breasts reflecting the lights in the wardrobe, emphasizing them in a most sexy way. Her breasts, encased in latex cups on the front of her costume, looked particularly enticing in their roundness, suspended high on her chest, hardly restrained with every slight move she made. Indeed, the thin latex material of the cups did not even shield her nipples, which poked out provocatively under the rubber.

There was still one last component, the cowl, which Catwoman did not put on. It would have been far too conspicuous to be running around with a latex mask – completed with pointy ears – on. Granted, Gotham City more than sees its fair share of costumed nutcases running around, but it's always best not to draw too much attention to oneself before and after the commissioning of a burglary.

Instead, Catwoman put on a rather chic looking leather biker jacket. She opened a drawer and retrieved two items – her mask and a pair of special goggles. She stuffed them into her pocket, took one final look in the full-length mirror to ensure that she looked okay, before striding out of her apartment through the private elevator.

The elevator took her straight down into the underground garage of the building. Standing next to her Jaguar was a well-muffled motor-cycle. It was a glossy black Ducanti that could easily out-run any police cruiser or bike. It had a false license plate so that it could not be traced to her even if seen at the scene of crime. She raised one long leg gracefully and swung it over the saddle of the bike. As she settled her beautiful buttocks onto the leather seat, the latex material of her costume squeaked softly. She then pulled on a helmet, started the beast, and was on her way.

Catwoman had gotten to the house just after one o'clock. She parked the bike right next to the gate, confident that its expensive, well-polished appearance would fool anyone into thinking that it belonged there.

Catwoman took out the cowl from her pocket. It was of one piece construction out of black elastic latex. It had two pointed ears on top. Most notably, its face had only two small eyeholes and two grommets where the nose would be, which meant that her face would be almost entirely sealed inside the cowl once she had put it on. This she did by rolling up the cowl from the neck up to the crown. She then pulled the cowl over her head, before unrolling the cowl down. The neck of the cowl was smaller than the upper portion, and fitted snugly under the chin of Catwoman, which – together with the high neck of the catsuit – prevented any gaps from opening between the cowl and the catsuit. The latex was pliable enough that an impression of her own face was formed vaguely on the face of the cowl, including the outline of her sensual lips.

Only Catwoman's heavily made-up green eyes peered out through two small eyeholes now. To cover them, and thus sealing off the last openings of her costume – aside from the grommets for her breathe, of course – and to prevent any errant eyelashes from falling out, Catwoman now proceeded to put on the goggles, sealing her body completely from the outside world.

The effect was certainly striking, especially once Catwoman had removed her jacket and stored it away in the storage compartment built into saddle seat, after first having pulled out her bullwhip. Wielding the whip, she looked every inch a fetish goddess.

Inside the costume, the heat was already beginning to build up, and every breath that Catwoman took was infused with the aroma of rubber. This more than aroused her a little, but she used that to help sharpen her senses as she walked towards the gates of the house, her buttocks swaying behind her from side to side, her breasts bouncing lightly, barely restrained by the bra she wore underneath.

When Catwoman reached the gates, she coiled the bullwhip she was holding around her waist, leaving a length of the tip to trail down behind the small of her back, down between her buttocks, rather like the tail of a cat.

Catwoman scaled the gate by the fourth second, was into the shadows by the fifth, and was at a window not visible to the street by the tenth second. By the twentieth second, she had cut a neat hole in a pane of glass with a glass cutting tool. She found the wiring for the contact breakers through the latex over her fingers, by passed them with an extension wire, and pushed up the window. Then she crawled through the opening on all fours, almost as if she was pouring herself through the narrow opening, first stretching her arms through the slit, then sliding her head in, before squeezing her upper chest with her mounds through, to be followed by her hips and buttocks, before reeling in her long legs. Each move she made was slick and graceful, even sensual, like black liquid pouring through the window.

Once Catwoman had slipped into the house, she took up a squatting position, with her folded legs spread open and her arms extended straight to the ground in front of her, like a cat, listening. There was a soft moan as the rubber on her upper arms rubbed against the rubber on the sides of her breasts. As she turned her head, the pointed ears on top of her cowl turned as well, as if they were the real ears. Indeed, the ears were fitted with sound amplification microphones to allow her to pick up the minutest sound, and yet filtered digitally to prevent loud sounds from overwhelming her hearing.

After squatting for a moment to see if there were any movement in the house, Catwoman reached up and flipped a small switch on her goggles, whose lenses swept up at their corners to resemble cat ears. Instantly, what she saw through them turned from darkness to a semi-bright grainy green. It was yet another high technology aid she had acquired. Both the lenses were fitted with a night vision amplification filter that boosted ambient light and allowed her to see in the dark.

Looking around, Catwoman was astonished to find that the owner of the house seemed to have at least as much of an obsession with cats as she does, with various statues, carvings, pictures and other art forms of cats, tigers, lions, and other felines littered throughout the study.

Some of the items actually rather struck Catwoman's fancy, but she quickly focused her mind on the task at hand on the ultimate object of her break-in. She stood up and strode up to a far wall lined with book shelves. Along the way, she noticed that the CCTV cameras mounted at strategic corners of the room, a factor that she had already taken into account from the plans. She knew that although the cameras recorded footages, they were not monitored in real-life, and would not lead to any outside intervention. Also, clad as she was in latex from head to toe, it would be difficult to identify her from the footages taken.

Catwoman went to the shelf identified by the stolen plans as the secret doorway to the room containing the safe. She quickly identified the hidden switch – again revealed in the plans - and pressed it. The shelf receded back until it cleared the other shelves to either side, before it slid to one side to reveal a doorway.

Catwoman stepped in through the doorway. In front of her was the safe. It had a good, old fashion tumbler lock. The security plans she had did not include the actual combination of the safe, but if there was one traditional burglary skill she had kept sharply honed, it was safe-cracking.

Catwoman got on her knees. The latex costume creaked softly as she moved. She ignored the heat inside the costume that was already making her wet with perspiration under the second skin and set to work. Within five minutes, she had defeated the tumblers, the latter with the aid of the digital enhanced hearing aid in her cowl. She swung the door open to reveal the object of her enterprise, the small little statue.

Purring contentedly to herself, she reached forward and grasped the statue. It really was a beauty. She stood up and stepped out of the room, examining it in the green glow of her goggles.

"You are every bit as beautiful as I had fantasised."

Catwoman spun around. Instantly, her right hand was on the thick braided grip of her bull whip. Swinging her right arm over her head, she uncoiled the whip in an instant, her right hand holding the handle up, ready to strike in an instant. Even as she was arming herself, she turned towards the direction of the voice.

Catwoman saw a dark figure standing in a corner of the room, barely perceptible even through the light amplification lenses of her goggles. How could she have missed him, she cursed. Her second thought was to wonder whether it was Batman, although the figure certainly did not have the bulk of that costumed crime-fighter.

"I'm afraid I do not like people to steal from me." The voice continued calmly even in the face of a latex clad female wielding a whip.

"Hmm. I assume you've called the police then?" Catwoman asked calmly, her voice muffled but still audible and comprehensible through the thin latex covering her mouth.

"I must say that I have not. I have always been eager to meet you, Catwoman. I certainly would not call the police on you and have our meeting cut short."

"I see." Catwoman said warily. This was getting weird, she thought. She retreated towards the open window from which she had come in.

"Leaving so soon?" the voice asked again, "I insist that you stay. We barely got to know each other. And I intend to get to know you quite well."

OK, that was really past weird! Catwoman thought as she inched towards the window.

"And how do you propose to stop me?" Catwoman asked, her voice now containing an element of threat.

"I'm afraid I've studied your methods quite thoroughly, and has set a cunning trap." The voice said.

"Which is?" Catwoman asked.

"A light switch."

Catwoman stopped, for a moment completely befuddled by what the man said. There was the sound of a click, and the room was flooded with bright light. The brightness smashed through her light amplification lenses, assaulting her visual senses. She physically jerked back, lifting her arms to shield her eyes even as she was temporarily blinded.

The next instant, Catwoman felt a powerful punch into her stomach. She felt the wind knocked out of her, and she bent forward. Then she felt a powerful slap across the left side of her face, and she fell to the floor on her right. She was still blinded, and now she was stunned by the twin assaults on her. She tried to sit up, but she felt another slap, this time on her right cheek, a powerful blow which knocked her to the left now.

Catwoman felt the bullwhip in her right hand being snatched away. She reached up to her goggles and ripped it off, even as her vision began to return, although most of her perception was blurred with red dots. She vaguely saw legs stretched up in front of her, but before she could do anything, one of the legs was lifted up, and a foot was shoved into her chest, just above her breasts. She fell onto her back. As she tried to roll out of her supine position, she felt the tip of a boot catch her right flank, and flipped on onto her front.

"Move Selina! MOVE!" Catwoman screamed at herself, but her body was sluggish after the sucker punch, the slaps and the kicks. She tried to lift herself up on her hands, but a crushing weight landed on the small of her back, pinning her hips to the floor. She felt her arms swept back and lifted high up into the air behind her back, pinning her shoulders to the floor.

"Urgh!" Catwoman let out a cry. She felt thighs pushed against her upper arms, pinning her arms in the upraised position. As her vision cleared further, she saw that she was now pinned to the floor of the study, which was now brightly lit. She still could not see her assailant, except for his knees. They were covered by denim fabric.

"As I said, I've always wanted to get to know you better." The man's voice said again, even as Catwoman struggled to get a good look at him.

"Fuck you!" Catwoman screamed in defiance.

"Oh dear, what a dirty mouth you have. We will have to do something about that, but for the time being, you'll have to be suitably silenced." The man on top of Catwoman said. Continuing to pin her arms in the upraised position with his thighs, the man took the end of her own whip and pulled the braided leather against the front of her cowl, where her mouth was underneath. The leather braid was forced deep into her mouth, pushing the elastic latex of her cowl in before it, such that a cleft of black latex was formed where her mouth was. When the man tied the end of the whip back to the main length of the whip, he very effective cleave-gagged the struggling thief pinned to the floor.

The man now pulled back on the rest of the whip, forcing Catwoman to lift up her head to look forward. He took her upraised arms and placed her elbows together. She felt him coil the whip around her upper arms once, just below her elbows, then tie it in place. When he released her arms, even though her wrists were not tied together, she found that there was very little she could do with her hands, bound as she was with her elbows painfully meshed together.

Turning around on Catwoman's back, but still using his weight to pin her down, the man unbuckled his broad leather belt. He looped the leather belt once around her left thigh, just above her knee, before pulling the ends over to her right knee. Feeding the buckled end under her right thigh, and pulling the tip over the limb, he mated up the two ends on the side of her right thigh, and constricted it until her knees were locked together, before he buckled the belt snuggly in place, imprisoning her two limbs together.

The man now got off Catwoman, but the female thief could not escape now, held as she was by improvised bonds around her elbows and her knees. Worse, the shortness of the length of the whip between the rear of her head and her bound elbows was such that she had to lift up her head uncomfortably. With the whip residing deep in her mouth and the latex of the cowl intervening between her throat and the outside world, she also found that she had been very effectively gagged. "MMMMMPH!" was all she managed as she struggled.

"Stand up!" Catwoman's captor commanded, pulling on the end of the whip, lifting up her bound elbows. This transmitted pressure down the whip to her gagged jaws, increasing her discomfort. She had no choice but to reluctantly climb onto her feet, a difficult process because of the way her knees were bound together. She had to sway her hips from side to side to get the momentum necessary for her to boost herself up onto her feet, her body's motion juggling her breasts from side to side. Even then, she stood unsteadily, her knees locked together and her arms twisted behind her back.

A figure walked around to her front, and Catwoman found herself looking at the owner of the house. He was a little shorter than she had imagined from the photographs in the magazine. Indeed, in her heels, he seemed a couple of inches shorter than she was. Nonetheless, he obviously had her at a disadvantage, bound and hobbled as she was.

"How does it feel to be bound with your own whip, Catwoman?" the man asked, a grin on his face. Indeed, his captive looked particularly enticing, given the way her bound elbows thrust her chest – with her two firm breasts - forward towards him.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman let out a gagged curse, the only retort she could give in her condition. Instantly, the man slapped her across her right cheek, sending her falling heavily onto the floor, moaning.

"I see that you're still rather untamed. We'll have to do something about that." The man said. He took the end of the whip again, and forced Catwoman up to a standing position once more, disregarding the gagged curses she was making under her cowl. Then, he pulled on the whip and walked towards a lamp suspended from the ceiling at the centre of the study. Catwoman felt her elbows being pulled towards the man, which forced her to turn physically away from him, and walk backwards, which added to the clumsiness of her movements enforced by her bound knees. She had to shuffle backwards with her buttocks swaying sharply from side to side as she struggled to keep up.

The lamp was an ornate one resembling a small chandelier. The bottom of the lamp had a D-ring wielded to it. The man now passed the end of the whip binding his latex clad captive through the ring and pulled it down. This forced Catwoman to raise her elbows upwards towards the lamp. The man kept pulling until her arms were lifted high up into the air, and the woman was forced to bend forward, raising her rump into the air.

The man now stepped back to admire his handiwork. Catwoman was every bit as sexy as he had imagined her to be, particularly when bound in her highly vulnerable strappado position. Her hard buttocks waved in the air, made all the more enticing by the way her legs were hobbled together. Her rotund breasts, restrained by the latex on the front of her costume, bounced lightly beneath her as she struggled futilely with her bonds. Finally, her crotch was pointed back, allowing him to see the impression of the crotch piece of her panties.

The man took out his iPhone from his pocket and switched it to the camcorder mode. Then began to walk around Catwoman, filming his captive in her humiliation as she struggled sinuously in her bondage.

"MMMMMMPH MMMMMMPH!" Catwoman swore again under her improvised gag when she realized that she was being filmed, but there was nothing she could do to stop the man.

The man folded back the flap of the leather casing of his phone to form a stand. He then placed his phone on the desk off to Catwoman's right. This allowed the phone to continue to record video without the man holding the phone. He now came up to his helpless captive and reached under her chest. He grasped both her breasts and squeezed hard.

"MMMMMPH!" Catwoman complained into her gag at the molestation, but was unable to stop him. She felt him begin to knead her fleshy mounds. He worked with expert effectiveness, caressing her breasts until – to her horror – she could feel herself becoming aroused. After a while, the man released her breasts and squatted down to look at them.

"My, my, your nipples are becoming engorged." The man said. Indeed, Catwoman could feel her nipples becoming sensitive and pressing against the rubber cups holding her breasts. She could only glance sideways at the man with hatred.

The man stood up and walked around behind Catwoman's upraised rump. She felt a hand brush against her crotch through the latex of her catsuit and the material of her panties. She shuddered involuntarily. Then, she felt the man place his fingers against her vulva, and begin to rub. She tried to buck away, but the man reached forward with his other hand and grabbed her left breast, pulling it in and kneading it.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman pleaded but her gag cries did nothing to dissuade the man from continuing his actions. His probing fingers over her vulva soon found her engorging vagina lips, and he pressed into the latex of her costume to drive the panties underneath into the mouth of her tunnel. This sent another shudder up her body. Her breath began to shallow as she felt herself becoming horny under the man's expert ministration.

Catwoman was shocked. She was not new to the concept of bondage sex, of course. In her career before becoming a burglar, she had been a prostitute. However, she had usually been the dominatrix, the top, and not the submissive. Nevertheless, there were times in her prostitution career when she was paid to be fucked. Occasionally, at the hands of a skilled customer, she had actually found the experience highly erotic. However, what was shocking now was that she was actually responding to a man's touch after having been violently captured and involuntarily bound.

Catwoman could only shake her head and moan into her gag. As the man continued to molest her, she felt herself becoming more and more aroused. Her body writhed, and she swayed her buttocks behind her. Before long, she felt herself becoming wet underneath as her cunt juiced. Her breath became more and more shallow as she felt her body being pushed towards an orgasm.

Then, just before she achieved release, the man stopped, leaving Catwoman – who was in the throes of erotic stimulation – confused. Looking out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the man walked away for a moment, and returned with a letter opener from his desk. For a moment Catwoman felt a sense of fear as he tested the edge. Then, he stepped behind the bound captive. Squeezing his hand forward between her legs, he grasped the front zipper of her catsuit, then pulled it down her abdomen to her crotch. He pulled the zipper up her crotch before pulling it partly up the small of her back. This exposed the lacy black panties Catwoman wore underneath. Having thus exposed her, he pressed a finger into the crotch of her panties, eliciting an involuntarily moan from his captive.

"My, you are all wet underneath." The man mocked, "Is it that the great Catwoman actually loved to be bound?"

Catwoman, stung by the comment, could only renew the struggle with her bonds to show her continued defiance. The man ignored the futile display and grabbed the waist band of her panties and yanked the garment's back out of the slit in her costume. This wedged the fabric of the panties through her vagina lips and chafed her clitoris hood, rubbing her erotic knob underneath, causing Catwoman to shudder once more and moan into her gag.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman protested but there was nothing she could do as the man tugged out the waist band until he could find the spot that would usually reside over her left hip. He sliced through the band at this point. Then he tugged out the right side of the waist band and repeated the cut at the point the band would go over her right hip. Once the band was severed at these two points, he had no problems pulling the panties out through the slit of her catsuit. As he did so, the fabric rubbed against her sensitive vagina move on its way out, causing her to buck.

"I see that you have waxed your vulva. Not a strand of hair here." The man said as he stepped back.

"MMMMMPH!" Catwoman could only moan again as the man walked round in front of her, holding the panties which had been cut into a rough X-shaped piece of cloth.

"See how nice and wet it is?" the man asked, showing his bound captive her own panties that had just been nestling against her crotch just a moment ago. She could only glance up at him with hate filled eyes.

"I can see that you're still defiant." The man said, "You still seem to think that you are the proud Catwoman, the queen of thieves. I think I will have to take that pride of yours down a peg or two."

The man stepped forward and placed the wet crotch piece of Catwoman's panties against the front of her cowl, where the breathing grommets were. Instantly, she could smell her own musky aroma through them.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman protested, but the man now took the two ends of the severed waist band of her panties, and tied them around the crown of her head. Then he took the lower two ends, and tied them together behind her neck. This left the panties spread out over Catwoman's face, forcing her to smell her own soiled panties. She could only shake her head weakly, a useless attempt to shake off the offending garment.

"How do you like your own smelly panties?" the man asked, laughing.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman could only let out another gagged curse at the humiliation of being forced to smell her own intimates after she had juiced on it. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the man could do whatever he wanted with her in this state.

The man now returned to the spot behind Catwoman. She felt his fingers touch her again. Now his digits have direct access to her vulva, and he easily located her swollen clitoris under its hood. He began to knead the clitoris, even as he reached forward once more to knead her left breast, causing the feline captive to become aroused again. As she began to pant, she took in whiff after whiff of her own juice through the panties covering her nose, which – unexpectedly for her – seemed to add to the arousal.

When Catwoman became suitably wet, the man stopped kneading her breast and clitoris. He reached for his denim jeans and unbuttoned the front. The sound of the front zip being pulled down reached the ears of his captive, and she realized what was happening. She tried to swing her buttocks away, but the man easily grasped her wide rounded hips after he had pulled down his pants and underwear. His penis was already hardened and pointed straight forward. He leaned forward, aiming the hot knob of his penis at the slit of her vulva.

Catwoman felt the hot flesh penetrate into her cunt. She screamed into her gag, and tried to break free of the man's grasp but he pulled her hips in, even as he rammed his own hips forward. His manhood charged into her wet vagina, rubbing the sensitive insides. Catwoman bucked her head back and let out another gagged scream at the penetration.

"MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned as the man repeated pumped into her. She could not believe it. She was being raped. She thought it was something that only happened to other women, something that could never happen to her, skilled as she was in combatives. She had trained herself in various forms of fighting styles, including unarmed combat and the use of the whip as a formidable weapon. Yet, the man had taken her so easily, bound her, made her a helpless captive, as if she was one of those weak women who could not defend themselves, and now was raping her, rendering her a victim as well.

Catwoman continued to squirm in her bonds, struggling against her own whip holding her captive. The braided leather groaned softly, but held her. She had chosen the bullwhip precisely for its strength, which would allow her to use it to swing from one point to another. Now, that very strength was being exploited to keep her in captivity.

The man continued to pump her. He panted as he moved his hips faster and faster, ramming his cock up and down her love tunnel. Catwoman could only moan as her cunt was pounded. She felt herself responding to the man's fucking, becoming more and more aroused, until, finally, she let out a gagged scream into the whip cleaving her mouth as she cummed. Just at that moment, the man also reached his climax, and ejaculated into her.

The man withdrew his member from Catwoman's cunt as it began to shrink. He was panting, but he was satisfied. She was every bit of a good fuck that he had fantasized about. Everything about her was perfect. Her beautiful body. Her fetishistic costume. Her bondage. Above all, he had captured and raped Catwoman! The very thief that had befuddled the Gotham Police Department and Batman!

Catwoman panted before the man, her body limp in its strappado bondage. The overwhelming sense of humiliation filled her as she breathed heavily through the stained fabric of her panties. The man had so successfully humbled her, binding her with her own whip and debasing her with her own panties before mercilessly raping her. Every fiber of her identity as a cunning burglar, as the Catwoman, had been shredded by the man in less than an hour. Reluctant tears of shame welled up in her eyes, and rolled down her latex covered cheeks. Along the way, it messed up her mascara, leaving streaks of black flowing down the exposed skins around her eyes.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" the man asked, pulling up his pants and zipping it. He came around to her front and cupped her chin, lifting her head up. He knew the answer. Catwoman may look in defiance up at him, but the tears in her eyes and the messed up mascara told him all he needed to know.

The man smiled and released Catwoman's chin. He disappeared from view for a while. She heard a drawer being opened behind her, and then the man came back into view. He was holding something in his hands, which she recognized almost immediately. It was a chastity belt of shining stainless steel. The waist portion of the belt was high, almost a waist clincher, designed to be secured on both flanks of the wearer by means of two steel flanges with ratchet teeth fitted to the ends of the front half of the belt. These mated up to oblong locks welded to the ends of the rear half of the belt. The crotch piece of the belt consisted of a flexible metal strip that ran down the front, to be pulled up to the rear and locked in place with the same type of lock as those on the flanks, except that this one was oriented vertically. At the moment, the crotch strap was unsecured to the rear, allowing her to glance down at its inner surface, which was fitted with a dildo. Her eyes widened when she saw the girth of the black rubber, which was beefier than any human version could ever be. She looked up in horror at the smiling man before her.

"Yes," the man said, "You'll be fully stuffed."

Catwoman writhed as the man unbuckled one side of the belt and placed it around her waist. In spite of this, the man effortlessly buckled the belt in place, clinching it tightly in to compress Catwoman's already narrow waist. Then he reached down and gathered up the end of crotch piece. He pulled it up and aimed the tip of the rubber giant penis straight at Catwoman's open cunt. She was still fully juiced from her rape, and there was no friction as the monster penetrated her and rode its way up her tunnel.

Catwoman shuddered as she felt the wall of her vagina stretch and the monster push deeper and deeper into her until its tip seemed to impale her. She could only shake in anger and frustration at this intrusion. When the dildo was fully inside of her, the man took the rest of the strap and buckled it tightly in place on the back of the belt, leaving the rubber phallus buried deep within Catwoman.

"Mmmmmmmph…" Catwoman could only moan weakly at the discomfort of having the monster within her.

The man walked away for a moment, and when he returned, he was holding several small padlocks. Methodically, he began fitting the locks to every single buckle on the chastity belt, imprisoning her loins in the steely embrace of the contraption.

When the man was done, he walked around to Catwoman's front again and spoke to her.

"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I'm going to turn in. Meanwhile, to keep you entertained …"

The man held up a small remote control, like that for a car, and pressed a button. Catwoman's eyes widened when she felt the dildo inside of her began to squirm. Its movement slowly became more and more intense, sending pulses of sensation up her spine. Catwoman threw back her head at the sensation and moaned into her improvised gag. She shook her head as the monster's movements turned into intense vibration, shaking her to the core.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned. The man gave her one last evil smile, then turned and left the thief alone in her bondage.

The rubber monster had sent Catwoman into orgasm after orgasm through the night. Within her own latex catsuit and cowl, she was perspiring buckets, some of wetness flowing out of the slit in her catsuit to mix with her juice escaping out of either side of the crotch strap of her chastity belt, to form streaks of fluid running down the rubber cladding her inner thighs. Then, whether it was from the shock of her rape, or the inadequacy of oxygen entering her lungs through the panties covering her face, or the sheer exhaustion, or her strenuous bondage position, or dehydration from her perspiration and juicing, she blacked out.

When she finally regained consciousness, Catwoman found herself still hanging strappado from the lamp she had been tied to. The tightness around her jaws and her arms told her that she was still bound by her own whip. Glancing down, she could see that her thighs were still bound as well. The shiny steel of the chastity belt still cladding her loins reminded her of her ordeal.

Catwoman twisted her body and glanced around the study. She seemed to be alone. She also noticed that the darkness of the night was beginning to lift, and she realized that dawn was breaking. She began to squirm and struggle desperately with the leather braids binding her.

Catwoman had had some training in escaping from bonds. Granted, it was more difficult to escape from being bound by her elbows than by being bound by her wrists, but it was possible. It had to be possible. Little by little, Catwoman twisted her elbows and manipulated her arms, until she was rewarded with her left elbow slipping above the braids of the leather whip. This allowed her to wriggle and shrug her left arm out of the coil of the whip. Once it was free, she could reach around and untie the crude reef knot used to secure the whip in place around her elbows. Then, she ripped the soiled panties from her face and threw it on the floor, before reaching up with both hands, to untie the knot binding the whip around her jaws, ungagging herself. Finally, she dropped to her knees and untied the belt binding them together.

Catwoman gave herself a few moments to recover. Then, she stood up gingerly. The monster dildo was still within her, but there was little time for her to find the keys to the little padlock holding the chastity belt in place, or pick them. She took a few tentative steps forward and found that she could walk, albeit unsteadily. Then she stumbled towards the window she had entered from and crawled through it.

The thought of revenge entered Catwoman's mind for a moment, but even though her mind was clouded by exhaustion and dehydration, she realized the risks involved. She did not know where the man was, whether he would be armed, or even whether he had called the police. The best option now was to escape and reassess her options.

Catwoman stumbled through the garden on her weakened legs. When she finally got to the gate, she took a while to climb over it, her usual dexterity hampered by the abuse she had taken in her bondage and rape, as well as by the rubber monster still residing within her cunt. Finally she reached her Ducanti motorbike, still parked where she had left it.

Catwoman ripped off her cowl as she popped open the storage compartment to retrieve the helmet and jacket. Her hair was all wet and matted against her skull. Her make-up was all messed-up, with mascara running down her eye sockets.

Putting her jacket and helmet on, just as the sky continue to brighten, Catwoman swung up her legs and planted her buttocks onto the saddle once more. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the dildo within her move deeper into her vagina, but there was nothing she could do about that.

It was a very interesting ride back to Catwoman's apartment building indeed, as she was terrified that she would be pulled over by the cops. It would be difficult to explain the chastity belt that she was wearing. And, with every bump or unevenness on the road, the motorcycle would buck, pummeling the dildo up into her cunt.

Thankfully, Catwoman finally got back into the privacy of her garage. It was a great relief when she finally entered her apartment. She bent down and quickly got rid of the boots she had been wearing, then unzipped her catsuit and peeled it off her wet body. Beads of perspiration covered her torso and limbs. She felt the relief of the cool air against her body as she walked into the kitchen, still wearing the chastity belt and the lower part of her catsuit. She took a bottle of water and drained it, before turning to examine the locks on the belt still imprisoning her loins.

Catwoman cursed. These were not simple locks that she could defeat easily with lock-picks. These used disk tumbler locks that were impossible to pick. Being constructed with no shanks visible, it was also impossible for her to cut with any tools she had available at the moment. The same went for the steel of the belt's body.

Catwoman had no choice but to leave the belt alone for the moment. Instead she cut her catsuit in half, to allow herself to undress fully. She tore the rubber of the catsuit off her limbs, then staggered to her shower.

Catwoman felt more human after a hot shower and had a warm glass of milk. Then, she dressed quickly for the trip to the storage facility just outside of town. She put on a light yellow bra and a tight white T-shirt before pulling on a pair of denims. There was no need for panties, with the chastity belt still locked around her.

Catwoman took the Jaguar and drove across town. She quickly retrieved the tools she needed and drove back again. She could not wait to get rid of the dildo inside of her as the elevator took her up from the garage to her apartment. The doors slid open and she stepped in the hall-way, stripping off her sneakers before walking into her living room.

Then, Catwoman stopped in her tracks. There, lounging on her expensive designer armchair was the man. He had changed into an expensive gray pin-stripe suit and white shirt, and was looking at her, grinning.

"YOU!" Catwoman screamed, overcoming her surprise. She dropped the bag containing the tools she had retrieved. She launched herself at the man, determined to tear him to pieces for raping her.

There was a beep sound. Before Catwoman could take another step, the dildo inside of her sprung to life with an intensity beyond anything it had generated the night before. The woman gasped in shock and her knees went weak as the powerful pulses shot through her. She fell onto all fours on the carpet as the man got up off her armchair.

The man stepped forward and slapped Catwoman with the back of his right hand. She fell to her side. There she stayed as she reached down with her hands, crawling at the chastity belt in a futile attempt to pull out the dildo.

"Let's crank it up a notch, shall we?" the man asked. He was standing over her now. He pressed the remote control in his hand again, and the dildo shook even more vigorously within Catwoman. She felt as if she was being torn asunder inside, and the intensity of the stimulation rocked her to the core.

Finally, almost unconsciously, Catwoman panted, "Please… please make it stop…"

"Will you be a good girl?" the man asked. Catwoman could only nod desperately as she squirmed on the floor.

The man smiled triumphantly and pressed the remote again. Instantly, the dildo stopped, leaving Catwoman weak and panting on the floor. She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath. Then, with the dexterity of a cat, she rolled onto a squatting position and launched herself at the man, like a cat hurling itself at a rat.

Just before Catwoman's outreached hands could grasp the man's throat, the dildo within her exploded to life again. She let out a scream and landed heavily onto the floor, as her senses were disrupted by the powerful assault administered by the dildo. She squirmed and arched her back as she tried once again to reach the dildo, parting her legs obscenely wide and reaching down with both her arms.

"I thought you'll try that." The man said, "No more tricks now, huh?"

Catwoman put up a longer defiance this time, but it was a losing battle as she was shaken to the core. She felt as if her lower regions would be shredded by the monster's vibration. Finally, she had to give in, and pleaded once more for the dildo to be switched off.

"Good." The man said, pressing his remote control again, "I hope you understand now that you must obey my every command or you will be punished, understand?"

Catwoman nodded dumbly as she laid on her side. She could not believe that she had once again been rendered so helpless, in her own home at that. She had been caught off guard twice.

"How did you find me?" Catwoman asked weakly. She screamed again as the man switched on the dildo again, shocking her to the core once more.

"PLEEEASSSEEEEEEE STOP!" Catwoman screamed, crutching her crotch.

"You will speak only when given permission. Understand?" The man said. Catwoman nodded once more. The man switched off the dildo as he retrieved an item from a large canvas bag next to the armchair. He threw it onto the floor in front of Catwoman even as he stood a distance from her supine form.

"You will have to be broken properly, of course, but until then, this will keep you quiet." The man said. Looking at the item, Catwoman saw that it was a ball-gag. Its red rubber ball was almost three inches in girth, penetrated by an inch-wide leather strap fitted with tongue and buckle. She realized that she would have to stretch her jaws wide to accommodate it.

"Put it on!" the man ordered.

Catwoman picked up the ball gag, and she gathered up the ends with both hands. She parted her own jaws and pushed the rubber ball into her mouth. It tasted foul as it pressed down on her tongue and stretched her jaws. She then pulled the thick leather straps of the gag around her head to mate them up behind her neck.

"Tighter!" the man ordered. Catwoman undid the buckle and clinched the straps in by another notch, forcing the ball deeper into her mouth and curling back the corners of her mouth further. The man appeared satisfied at this, even though it left her with a dull ache in her jaws.

"Get up onto your feet now." The man ordered. Catwoman slowly crawled onto all fours before slowly rising onto her feet. She stared balefully at the man, full of hatred. She was already beginning to drool from the corners of her wide open jaws.

"Take off the jeans and T-shirt, then the bra." The man ordered. Catwoman did as she was told, pulling up the hem of the T-shirt first before throwing it aside. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled it down her long legs before stripping the leggings off each of her leg. She now stood in only her bra and the chastity belt, her lips forming an O around what was visible of the wet red ball nestled in her mouth. She now reached back and unhook her bra, before shrugging off the shoulder straps to allow the garment to drop to the floor, exposing her firm breasts. She crossed her arms over them in an act of futile modesty, but that only served to push them together to form a deep and enticing cleavage.

"I really would prefer you in a costume. Where do you keep them?" the man asked curiously. Catwoman could not reply of course, but she turned her head and looked at the door leading into her walk-in wardrobe.

"Show me." The man said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

The man followed Catwoman as she walked into the room, her arms still crossed over her breasts. Her buttocks oscillated behind her as she moved, bringing a lusty smile to the man's face. Once inside the wardrobe, she walked up to the secret compartment and opened it.

"Take them all out." The man ordered. Catwoman did as she was told, throwing the costumes onto the floor.

"Mmmmm. Quite a collection. I see that you've cut the latex one from last night. Such a pity. However, I've always imagined you in this one." The man said, pointing at the purple lycra costume that she used to wear.

Catwoman stared back at him. For a moment, she hesitated. When the man produced the remote control again, and poised his finger threateningly over it, she quickly picked up the garment and unzipped its back. Then she stepped into the leggings of the costume, and pulled its rump up to her buttocks, covering the silver chastity belt around her waist and crotch. She pulled up the front of the costume over her chest, before inserting her arms into its sleeves. Then, she pulled up the long zip running up the back. The purple costume, unlike the latex one, had open ended sleeves and leggings, so her hands and feet were left expose. However, like its latex counterpart, it stretched tightly over every curve of her body, particularly her breasts, the nipples of which poked against the elastic material.

The costume did not have a separate cowl. Instead, it was attached to the front of the neck of the costume. Catwoman pulled open its hem, and stretched it over her head, pulling it back and down until the hem met the top of the back of the costume, covering the rear portions of the leather straps of her ball-gag. The front of the cowl had three openings. Two large eyeholes left her eyes and eyebrows uncovered, while a third one left the lower part of her face uncovered, revealing her gagged mouth.

"Good. It really looks good on you." The man complemented, "Now, put on some make-up."

Catwoman wanted to tear out the man's eyes, but his thumb was rested threateningly on the remote control. She turned and went over to her vanity top, and sat down. Once again, she lined her eyes heavily with black-eyeliner and dark mascara, but used a dark purple eye-shadow instead. She also used a glossy dark purple lipstick.

"Excellent." The man said, "I see you need less time to get ready than most women I know. Now for the boots."

Catwoman gave him a hateful look before turning to pick up a pair of boots.

"No. Put these on." The man said, dropping his bag on the floor. Watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye to give her no opportunity to attack him, he picked up a pair of black PVC boots from inside the bag. At first glance, they resembled the ones she had worn the night before, except that the tops stretched much higher. On closer examination, she realized that the heels were much higher than the ones she had worn. The stiletto heels were at least six inches in height. She sat down on her rump on the floor and unzipped the boots, and fed her feet into them, before pulling up the zips on the inner sides of her legs. She found that the elastic top came almost to her crotch, and fitted snuggly against the curves of her long legs.

"Stand up." The man ordered.

Catwoman obeyed and carefully got onto her feet. As she expected, her feet were forced into an uncomfortably steep angle. She was literally standing on tip-toes, putting a lot of stress on her calf muscles. It also made it difficult for her, unaccustomed as she was to heels of this height, to stand steadily. On the other hand, the tip-toe position imposed on her body tipped her torso forward, thrusting her breasts out, while at the same time pushing her rounded buttocks out behind her, putting her body into an enticing form.

"Now the gloves." The man said, retrieving a pair of black PVC opera gloves from within the bag and threw them on the floor, forcing Catwoman to lower herself into a squat with her legs wide open to retrieve them. She found that these gloves did not have fingers, but ended with sealed ends. She put on the left one first, which was relatively straightforward, but the right one was difficult, as the fingers of her left hand could only grasp the opening with difficulty. They could extend and curl back fully, but they were held against one another by the material. The thumb was rendered useless as it was imprisoned against the side of the hand. After some effort, she finally succeeded in sliding her right arm in, and pulling the glove up to her elbows.

"Now turn your back towards me and get on your knees."

Catwoman moved from her squatting position onto her knees. She heard the man take something from the bag, and walked up to her.

"Hands behind your back." The man ordered. When Catwoman obeyed, he fitted a pair of handcuffs around her wrists, securing them behind her back. Then she felt him fit something around her neck and buckled behind her neck. Glancing at the mirror next to her, she saw that it was a beefy black leather collar with steel spikes along its length. A D-ring was fitted to the front. The man now took a leash and fitted its snap-hook to the ring.

"Get up!"

Catwoman struggled once more onto her feet, balancing precariously on her impractical footwear. The man gave the leash a tug, forcing her to follow him. He led her out of the wardrobe into the living room, towards the elevator. She towered over him in her boots, but this physical superiority did not translate into any possibility of escape, not when she could barely balance, not when her hands were useless in the gloves, and not when her wrists were cuffed together behind her back. Indeed, the boots forced her to arch her body forward, thrusting her lycra covered breasts out enticingly, and they swayed with every step she took, even as her ass was pushed back out behind her to sway like the stern of a ship in a storm.

The man took Catwoman down to her private garage in the elevator. There, she saw an extra car, a Jaguar coupe. The man saw her surprised look and informed her, "It wasn't difficult to obtain the codes to your garage door, once I tracked you down using the cellular transmitter fitted to your dildo. I'm sure I used the same means you did to penetrate my security."

Catwoman's eyes opened wide, but she could say nothing with the ball gag still in her mouth. The man opened the passenger side door of the coupe.

"Get in." the man ordered. Catwoman had to turn around and fold herself into the narrow space, not an easy task with her wrists still cuffed together. When she rested her rump on the seat, she was once again reminded of the presence of the dildo when it was pushed up her tract. The she folded her long legs and hauled them in, twisting her body to face the front. The man reached in and pulled the seat belt over her body, pinning her body into the cushioned seat, her arms trapped uselessly behind her. Then the man closed the passenger side door before getting into the driver's seat.

The man drove the car out of the garage onto the busy Gotham streets. Catwoman looked desperately out at the crowd outside the car, but she knew that no one could look in through the heavily tinted windows. Help was literally within arm's reach, but she was completely helpless to try to draw their attention. She could only sit silently next to the man as he drove her to an unknown fate.

The drive out of Gotham City lasted for a couple of hours as the car was initially constrained by the heavy traffic on the streets of the city. The man kept himself occupied by molesting his captive, sliding his free hand up and down her long thighs or kneading her breasts. To add to her torment, he switched on her dildo, using a lower setting which, although it was not deliberating like in her apartment, only added to her torment as she became sexually aroused.

Catwoman felt the crotch of her costume becoming wet as she juiced from the stimulation of the dildo. Even worse, the man would wait until she was almost cumming before shutting the dildo down, just as she was on the cusp of orgasm. It was intensely frustrating, made all the more so by her captor repeating it several times during the drive.

Once out of the city, the man made speedy but careful progress, so as not to attract the attention of the police. He drove over the country roads until, at last, he turned up into a seemingly deserted dirt track. After a short distance, at a point where the main road could no longer be seen, he came to a stop next to a pick-up truck. He got out and came around to the passenger side. He opened the door and released the seat belt pinning Catwoman down, then took her leash and pulled viciously.

Catwoman fell out of the car onto her side.

"MMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned in pain.

"Get on your feet!" he ordered, tugging on the leash in his hands to constrict the collar around her throat, choking her, as an incentive to obedience. Catwoman obeyed as slowly as she dared, but she understood the futility of resistance. She reluctantly got onto on her feet, putting immense pressure on them in their torturous footwear. She stood upright with her feet together as the man walked around her once.

"My, my, you're so wet down there." The man said, looking down at her crotch. Catwoman felt the flash of shame on her cheeks. She could not help but look down, only to confirm that the sides of her crotch was all wet, the purple lycra fabric being stained a darker shade than the rest of her costume. She turned her head so that the man would not see her embarrassment.

"Move!" the man ordered, leading her towards the pick-up. He brought her around to the front of the truck, then pushed her against the bumper, before bending her over until her front was against the hood of the engine. She felt the cold of the metal penetrate through the thin fabric of her catsuit and shuddered involuntarily.

Catwoman found that, with her body stretched over the hood, her face came almost up against the windscreen. Just beneath her throat, where the D-ring of the collar dangled, a heavy steel snap-hook had been bolted onto the edge of the hood. This was no coincidence as the man now reached came round to the side and took the hook, and snapped it into the D-ring. She could no longer raise herself up even if she wanted to.

The man now went around behind the bent-over Catwoman. He liked the way she looked with her body stretched over the hood, her buttocks raised into the air and her large breasts squashed against the metal. He took her right leg, and pulled it to one side of the front bumper, spreading her long legs. Here, a steel manacle – of the same design as a police handcuff, except of greater circumference - dangled from a short length of heavy chain, the other end of which had been bolted to the body of the pick-up, just before the front wheel well. He took the manacle, clicked open its swinging arm and placed the steel band around the ankle of Catwoman, before swinging the arm in place. The sound of the ratchet lock clicking into place rang through the quiet forest they were in the middle of. The man walked over and picked up Catwoman's left ankle, and stretched it to the other side, where another manacle had been similarly set-up and secured her left ankle. Catwoman was now left sprawled over the engine compartment of the pick-up truck, her legs spread obscenely open to either side of the front, her crotch pointed directly forward, the two dark purple stains on either side of her crotch plainly visible.

Much to Catwoman's mortification, the man now took out a Digital SLR camera, and proceeded to take photos and videos of her in her current predicament. She squirmed in her bondage, trying to put up a show of resistance, but bound as she was, she ended up only shaking her booty, making her look even more helpless.

"My, you look lovely." The man said as he came over to her, and turned the camera around so that Catwoman could look at the LCD display on its back. He ran through the photos of her, bound to the hood.

"MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman cursed.

The man ignored the bound captive and reached into the pick-up truck again. He took out a camera tripod and walked to a spot in front of the truck. Catwoman twisted her neck around to see what he was doing. He set up the tripod and screwed the camera into place. Then he focused the camera, before switching on the video mode and pressing the shutter button to begin recording. Then he came back to the truck.

The man took out a folding knife and opened it. For a moment, Catwoman felt fear pierce her heart. What was he going to do? She wondered, and squirmed against her bonds again. However, the manacles around her ankles held her firmly in place, with her legs spread wide open, her crotch completely vulnerable. With her wrists handcuffed behind her, and her fingers rendered useless in the fingerless gloves, she could do very little as she felt the man put a hand on her steel covered vulva.

Then, Catwoman felt the man pinched the purple lycra fabric above the small of her back and she heard the sound of fabric being cut. She felt the cool air against the skin of her back. The man had penetrated the fabric with the tip of his knife over her back, just above the point where her buttocks began. He began slicing through the fabric, making a clockwise movement, cutting towards her side, then down. The fabric peeled back to reveal her right buttock as he reached the start of her right thigh. The man turn turned his blade and cut across the top of her right thigh. The fabric peeled back further to reveal the steel of her chastity belt.

The man continued cutting, now over her left thigh. When he reached Catwoman's left flank. He now begin cutting up, along Catwoman's left buttock until he reached a point parallel to where he had made his first incision, then turned again and cut across to where he first started.

The man took the roughly rectangular piece of purple lycra he had cut out and put it aside. Catwoman's rear was now covered only by her steel chastity belt. Her buttocks were completely uncovered, looking enticingly vulnerable. The man could not resist but gave a sharp slap on one of them.

"MMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned, and pulled at her bindings. Her buttocks wriggled as she did so, which only made them more arousing to look at.

The man now took a key from his pocket. He hooked a finger through the edge of the cut in Catwoman's costume, over her left hip, and pulled it down to reveal the locks on her chastity belt. He unlocked these locks. Then he walked over to her right and repeated the process, unlocking the chastity belt fully. Then he went around behind her. He unfolded the rear of the belt off Catwoman's back through the hole in her costume, before pulling it backwards. As the belt slid out from under her body, the dildo came out. The rubber slid out easily, still lubricated by the captive's own juice. When the front of the belt came up against her thighs, the man had to twist the belt this way and that in order to pull it out completely from under her. With the tip of the dildo still embedded within her cunt, this caused Catwoman further torment before the rubber monster finally popped softly out of her vagina, trailing strands of slimy cum. Her vulva was now completely exposed, with its vagina lips and the puckered asshole darkly prominent with her legs spread wide open.

"Your cunt is so slimy. I would have to clean it up." The man said. He took the rectangular fabric that he had cut from the rump of Catwoman's costume and used the central portion to wipe the juice off her vulva. He also pressed the fabric into Catwoman's cunt, causing her to throw her head back at the sensation caused by the intrusion, especially as he wiped the inside of her tunnel. When he came round to where Catwoman could see him, he spread open the cloth to reveal a large dark purple patch in its centre, the stain from all the juice she had produced in the car and from the man 'cleaning' her.

The man went back to the cabin of the pick-up, and took something out of the glove compartment. Looking at him, Catwoman saw that it was a rubber-ball, about the same diameter as the ball gag residing in her mouth. She watched him place the ball in the centre of the fabric, where the dark purple patch was. Then he rolled up the rectangular fabric. He held the ends of the roll, and spun the centre, twisting the two ends up towards the ball. Then, he knotted the fabric on either side of the ball.

The man now reached forward to Catwoman's head. He pushed up the hem of her cowl, and unbuckled the ball gag, before pulling the large rubber ball out of her jaws. He dropped the ball-gag onto the hood, but before Catwoman could relax her aching jaws, he pulled back on her forehead again to force her to part her jaws, and – to her horror – pushed the fabric-covered rubber ball into her mouth. This was, of course, the part which was most saturated with her own juice, and she tasted the tangy bitterness of her own cum as the rubber ball settled between her jaws. The man now took either end of the fabric, and pulled them back around her jaws, and knotted them tightly together behind the back of her neck.

"MMMMMMMMMMM!" Catwoman moaned at this new twist in her ordeal.

To be forced to taste her own juice, produced against her will by her bondage and stimulation was a new dimension in her humiliation.

"How do you like the taste of your own cum?" the man asked.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

The man laughed haughtily. He came around to behind Catwoman, and undid the front of his pants. He pulled down his briefs to reveal his hardening penis. Spread as she was on the hood of the truck, she was completely defenceless. Without pausing, he rammed his manhood deep into Catwoman. His captive bucked and writhed, as she was once more reduced to a rape victim.

The man pumped away at Catwoman, shaking the pick-up truck. His captive moaned into her gag, sucking on the stains of her own juice in her improvised gag. She writhed and wriggled, pulling at her steel bonds as the man pounded her inside with his penis. Then, at last, the man spurted his seeds deep into her cunt.

The man sighed with satisfaction and withdrew his shrinking penis. He pulled up his briefs and pants, and went around to the cargo bed of the truck. He came back with a long steel shank. One end had an eyehole near its tip, while the other end had a steel screw nut welded to the other end. A steel phallus, one end of which was threaded, was screwed into the nut perpendicularly.

The man went to the front of the truck, between Catwoman's wide-spread legs. Here, a steel bracket had been fitted, consisting of a U-shape piece with its two shanks projecting forward, with a screw bolt piercing the centre of the shanks. He unscrewed the bolt, to permit the end of the shank he was holding to slid in between the shanks of the U-shaped piece of metal, then screwed the bolt back into position, piercing through the eyehole of the shank he was holding. The tip of the phallus now hovered just beyond his captive's wet vagina lips. The man now began to twist the shank of the phallus. Its tip rotated and moved forward as the shank rode forward on the screw threads inside. Finally, the cold steel parted her vagina lips and entered the hot interior, causing Catwoman to squirm from the cold of its metallic surface. As the steel phallus penetrated into her, it also rotated, rimming the inside of her cunt, causing her even more distress. The man only stopped after about two inches had penetrated into her.

"Comfortable?" the man asked.

"MMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman cursed in response.

The man now retrieved his camera and placed it into the cabin. Then he climbed into the truck now. Catwoman heard and felt the engine start under her. Then, the man engaged the gear, and stepped on the gas, and began to drive up the dirt track.

Much to Catwoman's horror, as the truck bumped up and down the track, the phallus bumped inside of her. The shank it was mounted on would rotate on its other end, fitted to the steel bracket on the fender. The top end of the shank could swing back and forth, which in turn translated into the phallus sliding up and down her vagina. Her eyes widened and she saw the man smiled evilly behind the wheel through the windscreen. She also noticed for the first time that a small camera had been set up in the rear of the cabin to film out over the hood. It was capturing every moment of her abuse. It had probably been filming her since she was first mounted on the hood. Finally, to add to the insult, as the truck picked up speed, the cold fingers of airflow over the front of the truck brushed against her exposed crotch and buttocks, adding to her discomfort.

The drive seemed to stretch into hours, although Catwoman could not be sure how long it actually was. The sun passed its noon-time high, casting its feeble autumn rays on the bound hood ornament that was Catwoman.

The man was really enjoying himself. He felt himself becoming horny again as he looked out over the spread Catwoman. With her front pinned against the hood, her breasts were squashed down and together, forming a pleasing cleavage in front of him. Her squirming and moaning only added to his pleasure.

Catwoman cummed again and again during the drive as the phallus in her cunt continued to tirelessly pump her. This made her crotch wet and increased the cold of the air flowing over the exposed flesh. The cloth around the rubber ball in her mouth was becoming wetter and wetter as her drool mixed with the stain in the fabric to form a foul tasting cocktail. It was not before long that the ordeal began to push her towards exhaustion.

The journey only came to a stop in the late afternoon as the pickup truck emerged out of the forest into a clearing. Then the truck bumped onto a long concrete tarmac, and Catwoman vaguely noted that they seemed to have arrived at a disused airfield. This conclusion was given credence when the man drove up to a large building constructed from zinc awning sheets. The man drove up to its large sliding double doors and stopped.

The man got out and came around to the front. Catwoman could only looked up at him with her eyes half-closed, too tired to even move as he went around to the front and dismounted the steel shank, pulling the steel sting from inside her cunt, its tip slick with her cum.

The man left Catwoman for a moment as he dumped the steel shank. Then he came around to her and released, first, her left leg, then her right leg, allowing her to place her feet on the ground. Her thighs felt raw and tired after having been spread for so long, and she was actually grateful that she could bring them together now.

The man now reached forward and unhooked Catwoman's collar from the hood. For a moment, she laid on the hood, gathering up her strength. Then the man took the leash, still attached to her collar, and pulled on it, yanking her to one side and off the hood. Her bent body fell onto the concrete tarmac, and she moaned.

"On your feet, slave!" the man roared. The last word penetrated through the cloud of exhaustion in Catwoman's head. Something stirred inside of her. It was the first time she had heard the word after all the abuse she had endured. 'Slave'. She was not a slave! She'll never be a slave!

The man pulled on her leash again, trying to force her to stand up. Catwoman did so, first raising one knee, then another until she was in a squatting position, before boosting herself upright.

Then, before the man could react, Catwoman drove a knee straight into his crotch. Surprised, the man let go of the leash, bending over to hold his crotch. His eyes bulged open in shock. Catwoman then drove her other knee into his jaw, knocking him back onto his back. She tried to stomp on one of his ankles but the fetish boots she had been forced to wear made it difficult for her to hit her target, and he was beginning to come around. Instead, she kicked him in the side of his head, knocking him down again.

Catwoman turned and ran. The ridiculously high heels she was wearing restricted her movement such that she could only totter on the concrete. Her naked buttocks swayed behind her as she staggered forward towards the tree, desperately trying to get as much distance between herself and her captor as possible. Her breasts bounded against the elastic lycra in front of her chest as her heels pounded a staccato rhythm on the tarmac.

Catwoman did not get very far before she heard the sound of running footsteps behind her. She turned around and saw the man running towards her. She grunted into her gag and turned, trying to pick up her pace, but there was no way she could out run him in her ridiculous high heels. She turned around and planted her feet apart, ready to fight him.

The man came to a stop just out of range of Catwoman's kick. He smiled as he looked at the woman in her combat stance. It looked a bit ridiculous to him, seeing how her mouth was still firmly gagged and her hands were bound behind her. With her feet tilted forward at a ridiculous angle, she looked unbalanced. Her bare crotch, the start of which was visible from the front between her legs did not help.

"I shouldn't have underestimated you, slave." The man said mockingly. He took a step forward and easily side-stepped the woman's kick, now that he was not surprised. Given that she was already partly off balanced with her footwear, she stumbled forward. The man kicked on in her naked ass, and she fell heavily forward. In a flash, he was on top of her easily subduing the desperately kicking Catwoman, and once again used his belt to hobble her knees together.

"On your feet, slut!" the man ordered, picking the end of the leash again and yanking mercilessly on it, pulling up the collar, choking the captive. She tried to pull back, but the man had her at a disadvantage, and she was slowly but surely forced to stand back up onto her feet. The man took the end of the leash and passed it between her legs from the front, then pulled the leash out from the back, below her buttocks. Then he pulled on the leash, tightening it over her naked crotch, such that it pressed against her clitoris hood and parted her vagina lips.

"Move!" the man commanded, pulling mercilessly on the leash. This forced Catwoman to bend forward as the leash chafed against her crotch and pulled down on the collar around her throat. She was forced to stumble backwards as the man led her around towards the hangar. She not only had to walk backwards, bent over to relieve the pressure on her throat and vulva, but the belt binding her ankles ensure that she could only made short shuffling steps.

"MMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned as she stumbled backwards behind the man, her breasts swaying under the light lycra before her, her naked buttocks swinging wildly from side to side as she tried to balance herself tottering backwards. It was both uncomfortable and humiliating.

The man led Catwoman through a door at the side of the hangar and into the large interior. Glancing around, she found that the hangar did not hold a plane, but had been converted into a warehouse. There were large metal racks, upon which boxes and crates had been stacked, most of which looked as if they had not been touched for years.

The man continued to lead Catwoman backwards until he came to the centre of an empty space. Here, a large hook had been suspended via a thick chain from a motorized hoist. The hoist itself was fitted high over-head, along a set of steel tracks that criss-crossed the ceiling. It was one of the few things that looked new and well maintained in the hangar.

The man pulled Catwoman up to the hook and pulled up the loop at the end of the leash and hooked it over the hook. This forced Catwoman to lift her heels as much as possible as the leather bit into her vulva. Once the loop was fitted over the hook, some of the pressure was taken off, allowing her to plant the high heels of her boots back on the concrete floor, but the length of the leash was such that she had to bend slightly over to relieve the pressure exerted on her crotch.

The man moved away from Catwoman's field of view for a moment, and returned with several coils of hemp rope, dropping them on the floor. He took one coil and unfurled it. Then he doubled the rope. He went around Catwoman before coiling the rope around her upper arms and torso, just above her breast, feeding the twin running ends through the loop of the rope, which he had placed over her back, between her shoulder blades. He pulled the lines tight around her, trapping her upper arms against her sides.

The man turned the running ends of the lines backed on the direction from which they had come, and coiled the lines around Catwoman's chest and torso again, this time running the lines under her breasts. As the running ends come around her left upper arm, he fed them through the crotch formed when he first doubled the lines back, and pulled the lines taut. As he did so, the bottom lines crossing her chest under her breast constricted and was lifted up, pushing against the elastic lycra cladding her breasts to slip under the curve of her mounds.

The man took the remaining free lines, and tucked the running ends under Catwoman's right arm-pit, pulling the lines out in front and over the upper lines crossing her body. He pulled the lines down and tucked them under the lower lines running under her breasts, back under her right arm. He then pulled the lines out around her back. As the vertical lines tightened, they pulled the two horizontal sets of lines together, constricting them around her breasts, particularly her right one.

"Mmmmm…" Catwoman moaned softly as she felt the bite of the rough rope on her right breast through the thin lycra of her costume.

The man pulled the lines across her back and repeated the process, this time on the lines crossing over her left arm. Once again, as he pulled the running ends out over her back and tighten the vertical lines, they constricted further, this time putting the squeeze on her left breast as well. The lower lines were driven deeper up the bottom of her breast such that the mounds spilled over and covered parts of the lines. Once this was done, the man tied the running ends to the nexus of lines over her back to secure the lines in place around her body.

The man now took a second coil of rope and doubled it as well. He fed the loop under the horizontal lines running above and below Catwoman's breasts, threading it through the cleavage between the latter. When the loop emerged over the upper lines, he fed the running ends through them, and pulled them down, forming a cow hitch that brought the two sets of horizontal lines together. Of course, this constricted the lines around her breasts even more, until they were like two purple balls suspended high on her chest, her hard nipples poking out in their centres. He then parted the running ends, and threw one line over each of her shoulders.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned as the lines squeezed the roots of her breasts, causing her much discomfort.

The man ignored Catwoman and walked around behind her. He unlocked her handcuffs and allowed her lower arms to fall to her sides, perfectly confident that there was nothing she could do with her upper arms pinned to her sides. He grabbed her right wrist and folded it diagonally up her back, towards her left shoulder. He took the line coming over that shoulder and then lashed it around his captive's right wrist, binding it against her left shoulder blade. He then took her left wrist, and folded it up towards her right shoulder, and bound it in place using the other line.

"MMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned again as even more tension was placed on her breasts.

"Shut up, slave!" The man admonished. He slapped Catwoman's right breast to emphasized his point. His captive threw back her head at the blow, and screamed into her gag, "MMMMMMMMMMMPH!"

The man reached up and took the loop of the leash out of the hook. Then he turned Catwoman around such that her chest was facing the hook. He grabbed the control of the hoist, dangling about a foot beyond the hook, and pressed a button, lowering the hook slightly. Then, he pulled up on the nexus of lines in Catwoman's cleavage, once again forcing her up on her toes, before slipping the lines over the hook, leaving her suspended from those lines, with even the six-inch heels of her boots barely touching the floor.

'MMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman protested again, but as usual, she was ignored. The man unhooked the leash from the front of her collar now, and pulled the leash down from under the lines criss-crossing her torso, before pulling it out from under her crotch. The steel hook slapped her crotch on the way out, causing her to twitch. She temporarily lost her balance and was suspended by her breasts for a moment. She could only throw her head back again and scream into her gag.

The man knelt down and unbuckled the belt hobbling Catwoman. In her current position, she could make no move to kick him, no matter how much she wanted to. She could only watch as he took a third rope and doubled it. He hitched the loop end around Catwoman's right thigh, just above the knee. Then he pulled the running ends up and fed them under the horizontal lines running over her upper body, at the point where they begin to go up and under her right breast just after emerging from under her right armpit. He took the running ends and pulled it down. As he reeled the lines in, Catwoman's right leg was hoisted up by her knee. The man kept pulling on the lines until her knee was almost pointing straight up. Then he tied it off. When he let go, the weight of her leg added even more to the tension on her breasts.

"MMMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned.

The man stood back to admire his handiwork for the moment. With her right leg raised high up, Catwoman's crotch was exposed, while her body was twisted to the right, leaving her long left leg as the sole support for the rest of her body. Her bare rump was tilted up to the right in this position, the rounded buttocks gleaming enticingly from the captive's own perspiration.

The man now came around to her front and took out his folding knife again. Catwoman watched helplessly as he pinched the fabric of the costume just under her right breast and punctured it. He then cut the fabric around the fleshy mound, exposing it bit by bit. As he cut up and over her breast, tracing the lines binding it, the fabric peeled away to reveal the pale flesh underneath, until the pink nipple was revealed. He stopped only when he had cut a circular hole in the front of her costume, leaving her right breast completely naked. The man went around to her left, and did the same with her left breast.

The man went away for a while, leaving Catwoman to twist in her new bondage position. Her breasts felt as if they were on fire as the lines gripped their roots tightly, squeezing them into tight balls. Her exposed breasts, crotch and buttocks, on the other hand, were open to the cool air, adding only to her discomfort. Then she heard a terrifying sound – the crack of a whip.

Catwoman twisted around and saw the man coming up to her, wielding a bullwhip. She recognized it. It was her own whip!

"Remember this?" the man asked, "I thought there's some justice in punishing you with your own bullwhip."

The man stepped back and threw back his arm, holding the handle of Catwoman's whip. She clinged as he threw it forward and the whip snaked towards her. Its braided length bit her across her exposed buttocks, causing her to buck forward.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman screamed into her gag.

The man reeled in the whip again, and then struck again, this time striking across her exposed breasts in front of her chest. They bounced as the leather hit them and Catwoman screamed once again as the pain shot through her.

"Are you enjoying this as much as I am?" the man asked. Catwoman could only shake her head in silent protest, only for the man to swing the whip upwards now, striking her crotch. She screamed once more as the brutal pain tore through her vulva.

The man landed blow after blow on the helpless captive, causing Catwoman to scream again and again into her gag. Soon, her buttocks, crotch and breasts were covered with red welts. Beads of sweat covered her body, soaking through the purple fabric of her costume until dark patches spotted throughout her body. She had never experienced so much torment before. There was no way she could defend herself in her bound position, and with her breasts, buttocks and crotch completely open to assault. The man finally stopped after dozens of blows, by which time, Catwoman was barely conscious.

"Let that be a lesson to you, bitch." The man said. He now took a fourth piece of rope, doubled it and hitched the looped end Catwoman's left knee. He fed the running ends under the lines in front of her left armpit, then began to pull up her left knee. Once her left foot was completely off the ground, all the weight of her body were now concentrated on the lines binding her breasts, adding even more to her torment. She moaned repeatedly into her gag but the man ignored her as he raised her left knee until it was level to her right knee, before tying it off. In this position, her torso was tilted back at an angle, forming a convex arch with her unprotected crotch pointing forward.

The man reached up for the controls of the hoist again, and lowered his captive until her crotch was level with his. Then he undid the front of his pants. His penis was erect already. He grabbed her upraised thighs and pulled her crotch towards his groin. His penis penetrated her cunt easily, and he began to pump his suspended captive, raping her for a third time.

Catwoman could only continue moaning into her gag. She felt him pump him with an increasingly aggressive rhythm, shaking her body and juggling her pinched breasts in front of her as he pumped. As she was raped, she pulled and strained at her bonds, but she could not get free in her strenuously bound position. She only succeeded in pulling the lines taut against her grossly abused breasts, mistreating them even further. Finally, the man ejaculated into Catwoman. Perspiration covered the trussed captive's body, soaking her ripped purple lycra costume into a darker shade.

The man walked away from the suspended Catwoman for a moment, but if she thought that he would leave her alone for a while, she was very much mistaken. The man returned with another coil of rope. This time, after he had doubled it like the other ropes, he hitched the loop end around her trim waist, before pulling the free lines down towards her wet crotch. He came to her clitoris hood, and made a tight overhand knot where the line would rest on the hood. Then he pulled the lines cruelly in between her vagina lips, causing Catwoman to writhe with discomfort as the harsh touch of the knot dug through her clitoris hood and pressed into her love knob. The man then made another knot, this time at the spot where the lines crossed her anus. Then, he pulled the remaining lines up, and fed the running ends under the rope belt around her waist, and pulled them over the top. When he pulled the lines down to tighten the lines running over her crotch. Catwoman squirmed again as she felt the second knot dig into the puckered lips of her anus. Further up, the rough hemp dug into her moist vagina mouth, disappearing between the folds of the lips. The length before and after the entrance of the rope were already being stained by the bodily fluid on the crotch. Satisfied, the man tied the lines tightly in place.

The man left Catwoman alone, but she knew that he would not be gone for long. There was the sound of rusty wheels squealing behind her, and she turned to see the man pushing a large upright hand-cart before him, whistling softly to himself. The hand-cart had a high straight back constructed out of a steel frame with a steel plate as its base. It had two large wheels on the rear of the base, and a small crate had already been placed on it, strapped in place with nylon cargo straps. He wheeled the hand-cart to the spot under the gently swaying Catwoman. Then he reached up and pressed the controls, lowering his captive onto the crate. When her rump touched the rough top of the crate, he adjusted it until her tail bone was at the front edge of the crate. Then he laid the rest of her body along the top of the crate, arching it such that the upper part of her torso swept upwards, with her shoulder blades resting against the back of the hand-cart itself.

The back of the hand-cart had snap-hooks attached to its sides. The man now clipped the hooks onto the lines running vertically under her armpits, holding her upper torso in place. He then came around to the front and stretched up Catwoman's left leg. He placed her left ankle against the side of the hand-cart, just above her head, and used a plastic zip-tie to strap it in place to the steel frame. He did the same with her right ankle, leaving the woman with her legs spread wide in front of her. Her knees pressed against the sides of her breasts, pushing them together to form a deep cleavage. Her crotch and buttocks were now the most forward part of her body, with her vulva covered by the very rope binding it and visibly digging deep into her clitoris hood and anus.

The man stepped back for a moment to admire his own handiwork. Catwoman could only pull weakly at her bonds, completely unable to escape from them or from her obscene position. Red welts cut across her naked butt and her breasts in mute testimony to her punishment.

"We can't keep your cunt unoccupied now, can we?" The man said after a while. He stepped out of view for a moment, and Catwoman heard the sound of a bag being unzipped behind her.

"Mmmmmm…" Catwoman could only moan. Her eyes watched as the man came back into view again, holding a black rubber dildo of roughly the same girth as the monster he had used on her with the chastity belt, except that this one was shorter, being only about five inches in length. However, this one was 'hairy' with fine rubber spikes running up its shank. A short wire ran out of its knobbed base with a small plastic box attached to its other end. Her eyes widened as he slipped a finger under the lines binding her crotch, and pulled the wet rope out of her vagina lip. This put a strain on her hips as the lines were pulled down. The man ignored her squirming as he passed the blunt tip of the dildo between the lines, then pressed it against her vagina mouth.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHHH!" Catwoman screamed into her cloth gag as she felt the dildo entered her cunt. Although it was still lubricated from her own juice and from the man's semen, the rubber hair of the dildo rubbed against her inside wall, sending shocks of stimulation up her arched torso, as the rubber monster was inserted remorseless into her. She could only twist and turn her head at the horrible intrusion. The man came to a stop only once the knobbed base slipped through between the lines, which then came together again around the thin wire trailing out of the dildo's base. As the man released the lines, they pushed up the base of the dildo, inserting it the last inch into Catwoman. The base of the dildo and lines pushing it disappeared when the folds of her vagina lips closed around them again. Now, only the wire and its box emerging out of her vagina lips gave evidence to the presence of the monster.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm." Catwoman moaned in response. The man now walked around to the rear of the hand-cut and tilted it back. Then he pushed Catwoman towards a corner of the hangar, where a pile of crates had been stacked. There, he turned the hand-cart around and rested it on its base, with Catwoman bound to it with her legs spread wide open. Then the man scooped up the black box dangling from her crotch, and twisted the knob on its face. Instantly, the rubber dildo inside of her squirmed to life. Catwoman threw back her head once more and screamed into her gag.

Catwoman was left alone for the rest of the night, with only the dildo to keep her company. It would squirm intensely until she was being pushed towards an orgasm, then suddenly died off, leaving her exhausted and frustrated. Then, just as she was falling off to an exhausted sleep, it would spring to life again, shaking her to the core. It was an inhuman rhythm that prevented Catwoman from getting any rest, leaving her sleep deprived and exhausted. At last, after a terrible night of torment, she managed to drop off into a tired sleep.

Catwoman was woken up by the sound of a truck engine. She opened her exhausted eyes, and saw that it was day already. She squirmed a little, pulling at her bonds, but knew that she would not be able to escape. She looked towards the source of the sound instead, and saw a large truck being backed into the hangar. She also saw that, whereas the hangar had been deserted the night before, there were several men, dressed in workmen overalls, there now, standing around as the truck came into the hangar. The man who had captured and abused her stood to one side, talking to one of the workmen.

"OK, STOP!" shouted a voice. The truck engine was turned off, and the driver got out, walking to the rear to open the rear doors. As the doors swung open, more workmen climbed out from inside the truck.

"You're late." the man said, looking into the cargo compartment of the truck.

"Sorry Boss. We had to divert a bit. The scout car spotted a police roadblock just outside the city, and we had to divert along the alternative route."

"Any trouble?" The man said, with an unfamiliar edge of concern in his voice.

"None." The driver said, "Once we took the alternate route, there was no further problems."

"Good." The man said, his voice back to normal, "The plane will be due this evening. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Get the slaves out."

The workmen now mated up a plank to the rear of the truck to form a ramp. Then, they climbed up into the compartment. One of them emerged from inside, pulling on a leather leash. Catwoman saw a woman at the end of the leash, being pulled out by a leather collar around her throat. She was blonde and tall, with the lean body of a model. She was dressed in a small black dress that clad only her midriff. The top had been pulled down to reveal a pair of naked breasts, large and bouncy, with erect pink nipples. The black bra that had previously clad them was now used to cleave gag the sobbing woman, twisted and forced between her mouth, with the rolled-up cups pushing against her cheeks, and the ends tied together behind the back of her neck. The hem had been pulled up to reveal her crotch, clad only by a pair of tiny lacy black panties, the crotch of which had been pulled aside to reveal her blonde pubic hair. Her wrists were in front of her, bound together to the front of her own panties with white zip-tie. Her thighs were bound together with two zip-ties interlocked together. She tottered down the ramp on a pair of silver rhinestone encrusted high-heeled sling-backs.

A second leash had been attached to the front of her collar. This leash led down to her crotch and under it before emerging out between her buttocks. The other end of the leash was attached to a second woman, this time an Asian. She was petite compared to the woman who had preceded her, and dressed more demurely in a white blouse and black A-line skirt. The blouse had been torn open and her small breasts with dark nipples were open to view. Unlike the first woman, her nude colored bra had not been used to gag her, but was instead used to bind her wrists before her. However, like the zip-tie binding the wrists of the first woman, it had been threaded through the leg holes of the prudish nude colored briefs she wore such that her wrists were bound to her crotch. This, of course, meant that the front of her skirt had to be cut open to give her captors access to her panties. The slit revealed a pair of slender thighs clad in pantyhose, bound together with zip-ties. She had been gagged with a strip of cloth cut from her skirt, bound behind her long silken black hair, with her lips pulled far back into an unnatural grin. She too was subjected to the indignity of a leash running down from her collar, over her crotch, and back up from under her buttocks towards a third captive.

The third captive was a black woman. She was very tall, with broad shoulders and wide hips. She was almost Amazonian, with strong looking arms and thighs. Her hair was cut short, with a flat-top, in a style more like a man's. She was obviously an athlete, particularly given what she was clad in. Or rather, the remnants of what she was clad in. She was wearing a white sleeveless tennis dress with short hem, the front of which had been cut open from the neck to the bottom. Under the dress, she wore a white cotton set of sports bra and panties. The cups of the bra had been sliced open to expose her firm breasts with their dark nipples, while the crotch of her panties had been cut such that the panties gathered around her waist without reaching down to cover her groin. Of the three captives, she was the most tightly bound, with her elbows pulled behind her and zip-tied together. Her wrists were bound in the same way, as were her thighs. Unlike the other two women, who had improvised gags, hers was a large red ball-gag, strapped around her head and buckled behind the back of her neck. She was struggling against the workmen holding her even as she was led out of the truck, still wearing white tennis shoes.

"Good batch this time." The man said, scrutinizing the three women as they were led out of the truck, "OK, process them."

The three women were led towards the corner where Catwoman had been left. Their eyes came to rest on the hapless captive bound in her lewd posture, and for a moment, Catwoman felt the hot flash of shame flood her cheeks. She tore weakly at her bonds, but this only add to her humiliation as all she succeeded in doing was to shake her booty and juggle her bound breasts.

"So, I see that you're awake already." The man said, looking at his captives. The workmen around him also looked at Catwoman, their lust, ill-disguised. She could only look away in shame.

"Oh, don't turn away. I want you to see this." The man said, coming up to her, taking a leather strap from an inner pocket in his jacket. He forced Catwoman's head back to the centre, facing forward, and used the strap to bind her head in place against the frame of the hand-cart. He then reached down and turned on the dildo again, albeit at a low setting, just enough to start stimulating her loins, causing the captive to squirm.

"Don't worry, we'll take turns to pump you later. Meanwhile, we need to get these three squared away." The man said, "All three had been 'acquired' at the order of my clients. This one here, the blonde one, is a super-model that had turned down the wrong man, and found herself abducted from a nightclub. This one is a District DA that had prosecuted the wrong mobster. Now, she'll be on her way to his own private harem. And this one … oh, she's special. You may have seen her at tennis tournaments around the world. The up-and-coming tennis star. Well, she's not to my taste, a bit too of an Amazon, but someone had taken a fancy to her, given how she's always shaking her upraised butt while waiting to receive a serve."

The workmen now detached the women from one another, removing the leashes linking them together. They were then placed in a row facing Catwoman. The workmen set to work now, using knives to cut the remaining clothes from the frightened women while Catwoman could only watch helplessly from between her opened legs.

The workmen first released the women from their current bonds. The blonde's and the black woman's zip-ties, as well as the Asian woman's bra, were cut. Their arms, however, were held tightly to prevent them from escaping.

The black woman put up a furious fight, however, once her arms were free. However, with her thighs still bound together with zip-ties and with several workmen around her, they had no trouble wrestling her down to a kneeling position. The man then stepped forward and delivered a few sharp slaps which stunned the woman, allowing the workman to proceed to the second stage of the process.

The workmen now produced rolls of elastic self-adhersive rubber bondage tape. The women's arms were pulled behind their backs, so severely that their elbows almost touch. With one workmen holding each of the women with their elbows together, another would begin to roll the tape tightly around their upper arms, beginning from near the armpits down to the elbow. The tapes prevented the women from pulling their arms forward even when they were released. The workmen now held their wrists together instead as their colleagues continued to wrap their arms. When their wrists were secured together, their palms were now placed against one another, and their hands wrapped together as well, trapping their thumbs to the sides of their hands.

One of the workmen came up to the women, and handed a leather mono-glove, a conical leather sheath that would bind their arms together behind their backs, with leather shoulder straps to keep the gloves up around their arms. With their arms already bound behind their backs, the women could do nothing as the leather sheaths were slipped up their arms, and strapped in place over their shoulders. The men then tied the laces that ran up the entire length of the gloves, tightening them until they pressed tightly against the women's arms, making their bondage even more secure.

The next items to be distributed were chastity belts. Unlike the inhumane metallic one that had been used on Catwoman, these were made from more pliable leather. They were essentially large 'Y's, with the two upper extensions going over the prisoners' hips. The ends were buckled tightly in place to clinch in the waist. Unlike the steel chastity belt that had been used on her, these did not have dildos affixed. Instead, Catwoman saw that they had plastic bulbs placed on them. She realized that they were vibrator eggs. These women would not be spared the sexual torment that she had been subjected to, but apparently, they would not be inserted with dildos as yet. The workmen gathered up the ends of the strap, and pulled them up against the groins of the captives, and looped their ends over the leather belts around their waists. The ends were then secured in place through buckles bolted to the straps over the small of the backs of the prisoners.

Once their groins were bound, the workmen began work on their thighs. Their knees were placed together, with the black woman continuing to remain on her knees, struggling futilely against the combined strength of the men holding her. Using elastic bondage tape, the men bound the women's thighs together. Then, leather hobble skirts were distributed. These were belted around their waist, just above their chastity belt. Beefy leather garters extended from this belt down to around the captives' thighs, attached to a leather apron. The sides of the opening of the apron down the back of their thighs had sets of straps sewn to them. These were now buckled together tightly in place, trapping the women's thighs together. This arrangement covered the whole of their thighs, but kept their buttocks and crotch uncovered.

Next, leather corsets were distributed and put around the women's waists. These had large zips running up the front, which made it convenient for the captors to apply them around the torso of the women. At the same time, they had lacings run up both sides, which the captors could then pull tight, clinching in their waists. As the severe bones of the corsets dug into their flesh, the women squealed, but the men continued tightening mercilessly, stealing inches off their captives' waistlines and imposing a harsh hourglass figure on them. The corsets only had half-cups for their breasts. This, together with the strictures of the corset forced the women's breasts enticingly forward and up. They juggled as the women writhed in agony as the men completed tying up the laces on their sides.

The black woman was pulled up to her feet now. All the bondage imposed on the women had dramatically altered their silhouettes. The mono-gloves had forced their arms out of sight and caused them to trust out their chests and arch their backs, while their thighs had been forced together, foisting an hour-glass shape to all their bodies, a shape that was further reinforced by the strict corsets they now all wore.

The women were now thrown down on their backs. Their remaining footwear was removed and cast asides. In their place, the workmen now shod their feet with the ultra-high spike heel boots, similar to the ones that had been imposed on Catwoman, except that these reached only to the knees of the women, near the hem of their hobble skirts. Once the footwear had been laced tightly in place on their feet, they were lifted up to a standing position. All three of them clearly found the severe arch of the soles difficult, as they swayed and tottered, unable to use their hobbled knees and bound arms to help them balance.

Finally, to complete their bonds, the workmen took rubber ball-gags, and placed them in the mouths of the blonde and the Asian woman, replacing the former's bra, and the latter's fabric cleave-gag. Then, the man who had captured Catwoman lifted up a remote control, and melodramatically mashed down on the button on top. Buzzing sounds could be heard, coming from the crotches of the women. They all looked started, and began to squeal and squirm, but were held tightly in place by the men.

"How do you like the show, slave?" the man asked Catwoman. She did not reply. She was having troubles of her own. She was becoming horny again from the vibration of the dildo inside her vagina tract. She was already juicing again, and she moaned as she wriggled her buttocks. The man laughed and reached down, pulling the dildo inside of her out, parting the lines of her crotch rope to allow the rubber monster to slip out, still wriggling. He pulled the lines aside to clear the path into her vagina, then turned to the workmen.

"Well done boys." The man said, "Now, for a little reward for your labour, you can have this pussy, if you want."

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" Catwoman moaned into her gag, pleading, but the workmen were already laughing at her predicament, coming forward to line up before her. She could only close her eyes, waiting for the first rape to come.

Catwoman lost count of how many times she was raped. Given that there were at least a dozen men in the hangar, she guessed that she had been violated at least that number of times, although some of the men had seconds. Her pussy was aching from all the pounding that she had received. To add to her torment, she was hungry and thirsty, having not been fed or given a drink since the time she was captured. To further her humiliation, her fellow captives were forced to watch as she was defiled again and again. A rope was tied between two pillars, threaded through the D-rings of the women's collars, forcing them to stand near to where Catwoman was bound to the hand-cart, her legs spread wide-open.

The man finally put a stop to the orgy after several hours. He ordered that Catwoman be cut from the hand-cart, and her legs released from where they were bound next to her chest. However, she was not to have free use of her legs. The free lines of her crotch rope, dangling from behind her back, were separated, and the end of each of the lines used to bind her ankles, after her legs were folded up such that her ankles touch the sides of her buttocks. The shortness of the lines was such that her legs were spread open before her as she kneeled on the floor.

Catwoman's wrists were now released from their bound positions over her shoulder blades. The free lines running over her shoulders were now pulled down in front of her. The lines were hitched together with a knot about a foot from her breasts. Their ends were then parted from one another. Her wrists were now pulled up before her, each bound with one end, leaving about a foot between her tied wrists. The men used a tight knot to tie the lines around her wrists, which could not be untied by the captive, given that her hands were trapped within the fingerless gloves. The man stepped forward and attached a leash to her collar once more.

"On your hands and knees!" the man ordered, jerking hard on the leash, forcing Catwoman to drop forward onto her hands. As he continued pulling, she reluctantly raised her butt up. With her ankles bound to the sides of her buttocks, she had to lift her folded legs up as well until the points of her knees were resting on the floor. With her upper arms still bound against the sides of her upper torso, she had to arch her back down in order for her hands to be able to reach the floor in this position.

"You really do look like a cat, bound like this." The man said, smirking, "But there's just one more thing you need."

Catwoman twisted her head around to see the man uncoiling the bull-whip – her bullwhip! - that had been used on her the night before. She shook her head when she realized what he intended, but he pulled back on the leash to prevent her from moving as he knelt down behind her. He then pressed the butt of the bullwhip between the lines of her crotch rope, before sweeping them together into position between her vagina lips. Then he inserted the blunt end of the bullwhip into her pussy.

Catwoman jerked back her head as she felt the tip entered her. Although it was not as wide as the dildos that had been used on her by the man, the handle was covered with braided leather. The folds of the leather rubbed against her inside, causing her much discomfort in spite of the fact that her tunnel had remained lubricated from all the rapes she had endured. The man forced the whip in about five inches, before stopping. This still left about five inches of the handle outside of her cunt, at the end of which the remaining length of the whip curved down to the floor to trail behind her upraised crotch. The effect was that she looked as if she had a leather tail emerging out of her crotch.

"Crawl!" the man ordered, pulling on the leash. Catwoman was forced to shuffle her hands and knees forward, one after the other as the man led her away from the hand-cart she had been bound to. As she crawled, the way her arms and were bound to her body caused the lines to keep pulling at her breasts, kneading them. At the same time, the knot over her clitoris hood kept being pressed into her knob as her bound ankles pulled at the lines binding them, even as the whip inserted into her cunt kept swinging from side to side, rubbing the inside of her vagina. All combined to stimulate her body again, and she became horny once more, in spite of herself. As the man led her past the other bound women, she stole a glance up to see the women look down at her in fear. And pity.

The man led Catwoman up to a plastic feeding bowl. It was filled with milk. The man reached around behind her neck, and undid the knot tying the improvised ball-gag constructed from her costume's crotch piece of a rubber ball, and pulled it out of her mouth.

"Do you want a drink, slave?" the man asked.

"Ye…yes." Catwoman responded, then tried to reach down for the milk. A slap landed on her right cheek, knocking her to her side.

"Get up!" the man ordered, tugging on her leash. Catwoman slowly crawled back up on her hands and knees again, the sting on her cheek only slowly fading away.

"Yes, what?" the man demanded. Catwoman knew what was required of her. She did not want to say it, but the milk before her was just out of reach.

"Yes … yes, Master." Catwoman said, hanging her head in shame at being forced to say the word.

"Good." The man said, "You are learning. But you cannot drink yet. You must earn your food here."

The man held up something in his hand. At first, Catwoman could not tell what it was. It was a triangular rubber panel, that looked rather like one of those old-fashioned oxygen mask used by aircrew. The difference was that it seemed to be constructed of two-halves, with a slot down the middle, making it seemed rather like rubber lips turned on one side. With a start, she saw that it resembled a woman's vulva. When the man turned the mask around, she saw that a short stiff rubber tube, about two inches in diameter had been fitted into its centre.

A leather strap emerged from the top, while a strap was attached to each of its two sides. The top strap had a loop at its tip, which could be adjusted by clinching in or letting out the buckle securing the tip of the strap back on itself. The side straps could be buckled together in the conventional manner of a collar.

The man grabbed Catwoman's forehead and pulled back on it, forcing her to part her jaws, after which he jammed the tube into her mouth. When he released her head and allowed her to lower it, she found that the stiffness of the rubber tube in her mouth prevented her from closing her jaws at all. The man now pulled the top strap over the top of her head, between the ears of her cowl, before pulling the straps to the sides of the mask around her head to the back of her neck. He mated the ends together, after inserting the left strap through the loop of the top-strap, which now rested against the back of her neck. Once the straps were buckled in place, the mask was fitted snugly over her nose and mouth.

The man now came in front of Catwoman. He opened the front of his pants and lowered it.

"You know what to do, Catslave." The man sneered. Catwoman understood all too well. She also understood that she had no choice, not if she wanted to drink the milk. Reluctantly, she leaned her head forward. She found that she could extend her tongue out through the opening in the tube, even if she could not close her jaws. Using it, she licked the man's penis, tasting the bitter tanginess coating his tip. It helped that he was already having an erection. Soon, it was stiff enough for him to insert it into her mouth as her tongue retreated back through the tube. The warm tip came through the rubber tube, into her mouth. She then begin to work her tongue against its tip, manipulating it as the man began to pump her face, confident that she would not bite him, with the stiffness of the tube keeping her from slamming her jaws shut on him. It took a while, with the man pumping her hard, but soon, he ejaculated, shooting his sperm into the back of her throat, causing his slave to cough for a moment. As she recovered, the man withdrew himself from inside her mouth. He then reached behind her neck and unbuckled the top strap, allowing the rubber mask to slip out of her mouth and fall to her chest, still secured around her neck.

"You may drink the milk now." The man said, zipping his pants up.

Catwoman reached down eagerly and began to lap up the milk with her tongue. She drank hungrily, splashing milk against her chin. Her buttocks undulated behind her as she worked her tongue, curling up the liquid, until the bowl was entirely empty. When she was done, the man reached down, and pulled up the rubber mask over her face again, restoring the rubber tube between her jaws. He strapped it tightly in place behind her head once more.

"Boss, the plane is arriving." One of the workmen told the man when he was done.

"Good, just in time." The man said, tugging on Catwoman's leash again. She was forced to crawl behind him, the leather tail in her cunt waving provocatively behind her as he led her out of the hangar onto the tarmac. Sure enough, there was the sound of engines droning, and she turned to see a growing dot coming towards the airfield in the fading evening light. As the dot grew larger and larger, she could distinguish its shape. It was twin-engined, with each of the engine turning a propeller on either side. It looked like one of those old cargo planes she seen in war movies. The plane swooped down gracefully to bounce along the runway until it settled onto its wheels. It began to slow until it came to a stop towards the other end of the runway. Then it turned towards the hangar and swung around until its nose was pointed the direction from which it came.

"Get the women out." The man ordered as rear cargo ramp of the plane was lowered. Soon, the women were being led out, their collars once again being linked together with leashes running down from the necks, over the crotches and up their buttocks. They were led struggling towards the plane.

"Move it, Catslave!" the man ordered, tugging on the leash of Catwoman. She was forced to crawl behind him towards the plane. It took a while for her to crawl the distance from the hangar to the plane. By the time she got there, she saw that the women had already been secured to one side of the fuselage. They were in standing position and their bound arms were pressed against panels on the steel behind them. These panels had leather straps attached, which were secured over and under the women's breasts, pinning their torso against the panel. Their crotches in turn were resting on triangular steel brackets poking out between their thighs. These brackets were wielded to the bottom of the panels to form 'seats' for the women. Catwoman winced when she saw that the tip of the triangles were pointing up, meaning that the women were 'sitting' on the top edge of the brackets. They looked understandably distressed. Their feet were resting on the floor, but their ankles and thighs were strapped to the fuselage behind them, securing them in place.

The man led Catwoman to the centre of the cargo hold, which was mostly empty. Here, a nylon cargo strap dangled from the ceiling of the fuselage. It was fitted with a D-ring at its tip. A large chrome steel hook with a blunt rounded tip dangled from the ring. About a metre in front of this first strap, another nylon strap had been secured to a ring on the floor of the fuselage. The other end of the strap had a brass snap-hook attached to it.

Catwoman was led to a point just in front of the cargo strap. The man reached down under her swaying breasts and took hold of the second nylon strap. He fitted the snap-hook to the nexus of lines between her breasts. Now he stood up and went around behind her. He fished something out of his pocket and there was the sound of a cap being popped open. Catwoman twisted her head around to see that it was a clear plastic bottle. He was squeezing some vicous clear liquid onto the tip of the hook. Closing the bottle, he placed the bottle back into his jacket pocket. He took the hook and pulled it around Catwoman's upraised rump.

Catwoman was startled when she felt the cold tip of the hook being placed against her anus. She gathered that the item was a butt-hook. She had used something similar during her days as a dominatrix, but it was a new sensation for her to have the steel digit being inserted into her. She shuddered as she felt the steel part the puckered mouth of her anus and force its way in until she felt the coldness of the shank against her skin.

"This should hold you in place." The man said. He stood up and disappeared into the cockpit, leaving the female captives in the cargo hold in their bondage. Catwoman, in particular, was left standing on her hands and knees, her butt kept raised in the air by the butt-hook, with the whip emerging from her cunt like a tail.

Shortly after that, Catwoman heard the engines being raved up, and the plane lurged forward. As this happened, she fell back on the hook inside her butt. She moaned as she felt the shank forced its way deeper into her rectum. At the same time, the hook between her breasts brought the lines binding them up short, causing them to constrict around her breasts, adding to her discomforts.

As the plane accelerated down the runway, the pressures on Catwoman's anus and her breasts increased until the aircraft reached a steady speed. Then its nose rotated upwards, and the plane leapt into the air. As it did so, Catwoman fell even further back, putting even more strain on her anus and her breasts. She could only shake her head at the discomfort and moan into the rubber mask on her face.

The plane seemed to climb up forever, stretching out Catwoman's discomfort, until – at last – it began to level out. However, another source of discomfort now replaced the pressures on her breasts and anus. At this attitude, the temperature inside the cargo hold began to drop. As it got colder, Catwoman felt her nipples began to engorge even as the steel in her butt turned cold as well. It was a most unpleasant way for her to fly.

Mere minutes after the aircraft leveled itself, the man emerged from the cockpit. He came up to where Catwoman was, and knelt down. He unbuckled the harness holding the latex vagina to her mouth and pulled the gag out of the orifice. But before she could make any sound, he took another gag and stuffed it between her jaws. This one was a penis gag with the molded rubber tip of a penis mounted on a leather panel, which was strapped around her head, behind her neck. However, extended out of the front was another rubber penis, this one a full seven inches long, of thick girth. Its weight forced the tip of the rubber penis in Catwoman's mouth up against the roof of her mouth.

The man next took a piece of rope and tied it around the nylon strap holding up the butt-hook in Catwoman's ass. He then pulled the other end of the rope down to straps holding the penis gag in her mouth, tying it in place. In this way, Catwoman was forced to hold her head up, looking forward, her purple ears pointing straight up and the long dildo in front of her mouth pointing straight ahead.

"Now, this is not a vacation flight for you." the man said, after satisfying himself on the hapless Catwoman, "You will have to work your passage. To begin with, I think you'll have to help to train these new additions here."

The man disappeared from Catwoman's view for a while. Over the roar of the aircraft's engines, she could not hear what he was doing. When he came back into view again, she saw that he was holding one of the three captives. It was the Asian woman, and she looked terrified as she tottered on her high-heels and glanced down at Catwoman. The man brought her to a point in front of Catwoman's face, and knocked in her knees to force her into a kneeling position, the spike heels of her boots coming to rest on the floor under Catwoman's chin. The man now raised up her arms high into the air. This forced her to bend her lithe torso forward until her arms were pointing vertically into the air and her body was horizontal to the floor.

In this position, the Asian's cunt was almost directly in front of Catwoman's face, the slit of her vulva plainly visible. The tip of the dildo extended out the front of her mouth was in the perfect position to penetrate the Asian's cunt. The man reached up and took a snap-hook suspended from the ceiling of the fuselage via a nylon cargo strap and secured it to the D-ring on the tip of the mono-glove holding the Asian captive's arms together, holding her in her kneeling strappado. The man disappeared from view for a while, and returned with a duplicate of the gag now in Catwoman's mouth, and replaced the Asian's ball-gag with it.

The man disappeared, and returned, this time with the blonde. He placed her in the same posture as the Asian woman, lined up before the latter's face. He then replaced her gag with a penis gag as well, before disappearing from view again, only to reappear, leading the last captive, the African, which he placed in the same position as the others. This last woman gave him some trouble as she attempted to fight him, even in her bound condition. However, he easily overpowered her and forced her to kneel in front of the blonde. Her arms were raised up and secured in place.

The four captives were now lined up in a row. The three in the rear of the African all had rubber penis gags now. Only the African still wore her ball-gag. This was soon remedied when the man took the rubber vagina gag that had previously been placed on Catwoman and used it to replace the ball-gag, covering the black's face.

The man now went away for a moment, and returned with some leather leashes. These were relatively short, about two-feet long. Catwoman saw that there were small snap-hooks secured on each end of the leashes. He dropped the leashes on the floor next to the purple lycra-clad captive, before taking a plastic bottle out of his jacket pocket. He popped it open and came up to Catwoman. He squeezed a clear liquid onto the rubber dildo swaying under her nose and rubbed it all over the black exterior. From experience, she knew that this was lubricant. He replaced the bottle in his pocket, then took one of the leashes. He secured one hook to Catwoman's collar, then pulled the leash forward. This forced Catwoman to push her head forward. The tip of the dildo in front of her mouth bumped into the crotch of the woman in front, causing her to wriggle her butt.

The man gave the Asian's buttock a tight slap, leaving a red mark. He then seized the shank of the dildo and placed the tip against the vagina mouth of the Asian. A gagged squeal came from the front end of the Asian as the tip entered her. He then looped the leash around the front of the bound legs of the Asian, and pulled, forcing Catwoman to lean forward further, pushing the dildo into the Asian. The latter could only squeal again.

The man now took the other end of the leash and pull it back from the other side of the Asian, and back to Catwoman's collar, where he attach it to the D-ring. This left Catwoman's face mere inches from the Asian's crotch, with her nose near to the woman's anus. This also prevented her from pulling her head back, thus removing the rubber dildo from the Asian's cunt.

The man now walked up to the front of the Asian. He repeated the process with her now, and secured her penis gag in the cunt of the blonde. Then, he did the same with the blonde, who ended up with her face inches from the crotch of the black female captive. All four women were now tied together in a chain.

The man disappeared from view again, leaving the women to squirm and moan in their joint suffering and humiliation. Then, Catwoman heard a thump behind her, as if something heavy had been placed behind her. Next, she felt the whip that had been trust inside of her pull out unceremoniously. She yelped into her gag from the sensation. Then, she felt something thick and slick penetrated her vagina mouth. She sucked in a breath as the object spread her vagina wall and entered her tract. She realized that she just had a dildo shove up her vagina again.

The man came back into view again, and went around to the front of the chain, directly in front of the black woman. He unzipped and lowered his pants, and Catwoman could just see over the upraised rumps of the women ahead to observe the fact that the man's penis was already erect.

The man grinned evilly as he held up a remote control, and pressed down on a button on it. Instantly, Catwoman let out a squeal as she felt the rubber dildo behind her move, driving itself into her. The whirl of a motor could be heard even over the sound of the aircraft's engines. It was a deep and forceful thrust, which forced Catwoman to move her face forward. This, in turn, forced the dildo mounted before her face to be driven deeper into the Asian in front. This, of course, forced the Asian to do the same with her own dildo gag, transmitting the motion to the blonde, who had to do the same to the black woman. Finally, the black woman had to thrust her face forward. The man seized her head, and inserted his penis into the opening on the vagina gag over her face.

Catwoman felt the powerful thrust from behind her again, and in spite of herself, she transmitted the push to the Asian in front of her, who in turn spread it down the line until the black woman thrust her face forward, swallowing the man's cock deep into her mouth.

This happened again and again, causing the women to thrust their hips and face forward, again and again, ultimately causing the black woman to run her mouth up and down over the man's penis. The man was effectively raping and humiliating all four women at the same time, with the black woman now being reserved for the ultimate sentence of having to give the man an enforced blow-job.

Catwoman could not believe the deviousness of the man's mind, and how cruel he could be, to have invented this arrangement to force the women to rape each other, with Catwoman as the initiator of the others' suffering. Yet, even though she was unwilling to be the instrument of her fellow captives' torment, she had no choice as the machine behind her pumped her powerful, stroke after stroke, forcing her to push her face forward time and again.

Catwoman felt herself becoming more and more horny as the machine worked away on her cunt. In front of her, she could see that the Asian was also beginning to juice, with white liquid seeping out from her vagina mouth around the rubber monster being shoved up and down the tract. Gagged moans and squeals was audible even over the droning of the engines.

Then, against her will, Catwoman felt the shudder of a powerful orgasm which sent chills up her body. She moaned with a mixture of sexual ecstasy and humiliation. Shortly afterwards, the Asian in front of her did the same thing, sending a steady stream of cum out of her cunt, down her crotch, slicking the black surface of her hobble skirt stretched around her legs. Way ahead, the blonde and black were the last to give in, but they too cummed, even as the black worked her mouth furiously over the man's penis. Finally, the man ejaculated. He sighed visibly before withdrawing his penis from the black's mouth.

The man smiled at the women as he zipped up his pants. He held up the remote control again, and – much to Catwoman's relief – stopped the infernal machine behind her. However the dildo was still embedded in her cunt, and the man made no move to remove it, or to release the women from the fiendish arrangement he had placed them in. Instead, he turned and walked back to the cockpit of the plane, leaving the women in their bondage behind him.

Over the long flight, the man and the members of the aircraft's crew made use of the arrangement. Each of them would rape four women at once with the machine, forcing them into sexual ecstasy against their will while satisfying themselves in the mouth of the black woman. Catwoman could only imagine what her state would be like now. Her mouth must be stained and filled with the men's semen.

After hours of this ordeal, the man came to the cargo hold again. He looked down at the bound and helpless Catwoman, kneeling on all fours behind her fellow captive, her head still covered by her purple Catwoman cowl even as her face was almost buried in the latter's crotch. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath her chest as the machine behind her rammed the giant dildo up and down her love canal, forcing her to pump the woman in front of her, transmitting the torment she was enduring.

"If only you know how pathetic you look, Catwoman," the man said derisively, "You look exactly like what you are, a slut dressed up in a tarty costume."

Catwoman was too exhausted to react, even if she was stung by the insult. The man went around to behind her and switched off the machine. The rubber dildo within her ceased its motion, still buried deep within her. She panted softly as she knelt on all fours, awaiting helplessly the next abuse the man would dream up.

"I would love to have more fun with you, but unfortunately, we're about to arrive at our destination. It's time to prepare the lot of you for transportation."

The man reached down and released Catwoman's collar from the leash binding it to the woman in front of her. Then he withdrew the rubber dildo from deep within her. Next, he released the rope binding the butthook to the straps of her harness gag, before pulling the steel hook out from her anus. Finally, he untied her ankles from her thighs, and allowed her to stand up. In front of her, the other women were being released from their kneeling position, and brought to a standing position by the other men. Their penis gags were now removed from their heads, but were immediately replaced by large ball gas, secured by thin leather straps around their heads, propping their jaws apart, forcing them to drool almost immediately.

Catwoman and her fellow captives were brought to a corner of the cargo hold. She found herself looking at four long pods, leaning against the side of the fuselage. They were made from some sort of shiny plastic, and were formed in the shape of women, complete with emotionless faces and breasts, with the shapes of their 'arms' pulled behind their backs, and their legs meshed together. One of the other men went to the side of one of the pods, and undid a series of snap fasteners along the side. He then swung open the front like a lid to reveal a narrow cavity cut into rubber foam lining the inside of the pod.

Catwoman's slaver now turned to her. He untied her wrists from in front of her, then turned her roughly around. Her wrists were crossed behind her, and in a moment, they had been secured together with handcuffs behind the small of her back. Then she was led up to the open pod and turned around, before being pushed into the cavity. She felt the rubber foam squeeze in the side of her arms as she was nestled into the cavity, her bound arms being pinned helplessly behind her back. Then her legs were pushed into the cavity too, with the rubber foam now pushing her knees and ankles together, hobbling them. Then the lid of the pod was swung close. The inside of the lid was lined with rubber foam too, and these too pressed into the front of her body. There was no need for any additional binding to immobilize Catwoman's body completely. Then, there was the dull snaps of the fasteners being applied, locking her into the pod.

Catwoman found that there was a space in front of her face that was not covered with foam, allowing her to breathe. Two holes had been pierced through the nose of the plastic face to allow air to come in. The eyes were actually fitted with eyepieces that allowed her to look out, but mirrored such that no one could look through them onto the inside. The rubber encompassing her head blocked out much of the sound from the outside, and prevented her from moving her head. She could only use her eyes to see what was happening outside through the limited field of view of the eyepieces.

Catwoman saw that the other women were now being put into the other pods. Then she felt the pod she was in being moved. She realized that there were small coasters under the heel of the pod, and she was slid from the fuselage side to the centre of the cargo hold. She was then laid flat onto the floor, looking up. Glancing to the sides, she saw the other pods being laid one by one next to her. Then nylon cargo straps were applied over the pods to pin them in place.

Catwoman and her fellow captives were left on the floor for a period of time as the aircraft turned and made its final approach. A firm bump and a loud roar penetrating even the rubber foam of the pod told her that they have – at last – landed. After another long period, the aircraft finally came to a stop.

Then, light began to flood into the interior of the cargo hold, and Catwoman guessed that the ramp must have been lowered. Workers now came up to the pods and unstrapped them. They were then tilted up and pulled out of the aircraft, rolling on their coasters.

Through the eyepieces of the pods, Catwoman could see that they are in a busy airfield. There were many other workers around, and she even caught sight of uniformed personnel. Yet, they did not look the least interested at the four pods being moved. Perhaps they thought that nothing more than mannequins were being transported. She wanted to call out to them, to cry for help, but nothing escaped her gagged mouth. Even if she could make some noise, the plastic pod most probably would contain any sound she made.

The pods were lifted up, and placed standing up. Catwoman looked out of her plastic prison to see that they have been placed in the flatbed of a truck. Straps were used to secure the pods in an upright position, and the back of the flatbed closed. Then the truck was started up. As she looked out, she saw the buildings of the airfield flash past.

The truck came to a halt, and Catwoman saw a uniformed man came around, holding a clipboard in his hand. He looked like some sort of customs official, although the uniform was not familiar to her. Here was her chance! She twisted and squirmed inside her prison, and tried yelling through her gag, but she could not move, pressed as she was by rubber foam all around her. Then, with a sinking heart, she saw the uniformed man wave, and the truck started again.

The truck now turned into a bumpy road. It travelled for a while along a mostly empty road until it joined a far busier road. In fact, the truck ground to a slow crawl as it became enmeshed in a traffic jam. The truck was surrounded by other vehicles. There were so many others all around the truck, and yet none of them could see that four women were being held captive before their very eyes. In fact, Catwoman caught the eyes of several drivers resting on the pods, but none seem to find anything suspicious.

After what seemed like hours, the truck finally turned off the busy main roads, and took a series of small back roads. The more well-constructed buildings that had lined the main roads now gave way to more ramshackle constructions of the sort Catwoman had seen in documentaries about slums in Third World countries. Then, the truck turned into through a gate in a walled compound, and finally ground to a halt.

Workers now climbed onto the flat-bed of the truck. The pods were now unstrapped, and they were pulled off the flatbeds. They were then rolled at an angle, and Catwoman found herself looking up at the sky. Then, as she was brought into a building, the concrete ceiling of a corridor. After a while, she was led through a door and laid flat on the floor. The lid was opened, and hands reached in, pulling the bound captive out from her rubber prison. She was roughly lifted onto her feet, and out of the pod.

Catwoman glanced around at her new surroundings. She saw that she was in a large hall, with bare concrete floor, walls and ceilings. There were no windows anywhere she could see, and the hall was lit by large white lights dangling from wires from the tall ceiling. To her shock and horror, she saw that there were many others like her and her fellow captives. This end of the hall was littered with pods and captives being pulled out onto their feet. She was not able to count them, but she guessed that there were at least a dozen women, including herself and her fellow captives. They were all bound like her fellow captives, whom were being pulled out of their own pods, with looks of shock and horror on their faces as they took in their new predicament.

Once all the women were extracted, guards wearing green camouflaged uniform and jungle boots began shepherding them together. They wielded cattle prods, which they did not hesitate to use against the slower ones, which included Catwoman, who felt the sharp bite of electricity on her naked rump, which prompted her to totter forward towards the cluster of other women. Once they were gathered together near the middle of the hall, the guards began to string them out. She saw that they were now being arranged according to their height, with the shortest to the left and the tallest to the right. She was placed near to the right-handed end of the line, with the black Amazon the only one being taller than her, while the Asian captive was brought towards the other end. Once they were arranged, the guards cruelly used the cattle prods to ensure that the line remained straight, eliciting gagged cries of anguish from the victims of their attention.

When the captives settled down, a small group of men marched into the hall from a door at the other end of the space. Catwoman saw that her slaver was amongst them. From the he walked, he was obviously the boss, the one in charge. The guards saluted as he marched up to the line of captives, and walked up the line from the left to the right. He paused to examine some of the captives, hefting their breasts, or pulling up their chin to look at their faces.

"Eyes forward!" came a sharp command from behind Catwoman before she felt the sharp bite of the cattle prod again. She yelped into her gag, and took an involuntarily step forward, before strong hands pulled her back into line again. She looked up, she saw the man standing in front of her, looking up at her gagged face.

"Still as disobedient, I see." the man said, smiling evilly, "I think you should definitely be punished now."

The man gave a curt nod, and Catwoman was pulled out of line. She was pushed towards the wall to the right, where she saw a steel hook dangling by chain from high above the ceiling. She knew what was coming, and she struggled, but to no avail. She was brought up to the hook, and one of the guards grabbed the hook. He fed it through all the lines criss-crossing her breasts. The other guards then grabbed her body and lifted her upwards. The first guard then placed the hook through the nexus formed by the lines of her crotch rope as they snaked towards her crotch after encircling her waist. When they released her, her entire body weight came to rest on her crotch rope, which now bit deep into her vulva. She could only throw her head back in anguish, as her legs kicked uselessly under her as she tried to find a foothold. There was none, as the tip of her boots dangled a mere inch off the floor. But that was not the end of it. Another guard now came forward, carrying a riding crop in his hand.

"Let this be a warning to all of you." Catwoman's slaver said, addressing the other women, "Disobedience will be very severely dealt with. What you see now is only the mildest of the corrective measures we will apply to you, should you be as foolish as this slave here."

The guard with the riding crop grinned, and swung back his arm. Catwoman groaned, dreading what was to come. As the crop was swung forward, it contacted her naked right butt. She bucked and screamed into her gag.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman moaned again as the crop was swung, this time contacting her right breasts, leaving an ugly red welt. She bucked once again as the crop was now applied to her left breast. Then her left butt. Then her right butt again. The guard only stopped after a dozen blows, leaving lines of pain criss-crossing her naked mounds.

"Start processing the slaves." the man ordered.

The guards now came forward and began to pull the women forward one by one. They started with the Asian girl first. She was brought to the front of the line, in the middle of the hall. As Catwoman watched from her suspended bondage, they took a leash and attached it to her collar. One of the guard held the other end of the leash, proffering his cattle prod as a warning before the other guards removed the items of bondage hobbling her thighs and binding her arms. Next they released the chastity belt from around her waist, but left the cruel high-heeled boots on her feet. Then, they pulled her arms before her, and crossed her wrists, with her palms facing out and forward. They then applied a thick leather band around her wrists, binding them together, buckling the ends in place using the strong steel buckle at one end of the band. This arrangement drew her elbows closer together, which squeezed her small breasts together to form a deep cleavage. The band had a D-ring attached to it, in front of the bound wrists, from which a snap-hook dangled. The woman's bound wrists were now lifted up and over her head until her elbows were pointed up towards the ceiling. One of the guards now slipped the hook under the buckled strap holding the collar in place, allowing the snap to spring back into place. This now trapped the woman's wrists against the back of her neck, her palms facing inwards, her elbows raised up into the air, with her arms folded on either side of her head. This now only bared her armpits, but also lifted up her breasts on her chest, displaying them for everyone to see.

The Asian woman was now led towards a row of school desks lined from left to right in the middle of the inner half of the hall. She was marched up to the wall near the left hand end of the row first, where she was pushed against the wall, where a series of lines were painted from the floor up, marking out height in terms of feet. A camera had been set up here, facing the markings. She was placed with her back against the wall, facing the camera. A number was now held up in front of her neck by a guard, above her breasts, and another guard bent down behind the camera to take a snapshot. She was then turned around such that her right side, then her left side, and finally her back, faced the camera, such that every part of her body would be captured.

The Asian woman was next pulled towards the first of the desks, where a weighing scale had been placed. She was forced to step up on it, and her weight read out. The guard sitting behind the desk recorded her weight on a laptop on the desk, before the woman was pulled off the scale towards the next desk.

The guard leading the Asian slave took a tape measure from the second desk. He looped it around the woman's breasts, then her waist, then her hips, calling out her measurements, which the guard sitting behind the desk recorded on his laptop.

The Asian woman was led to the third desk now. She was bent over before the desk such that her cunt was openly displayed. The guard holding her now took an acrylic rod from the desk, and inserted it into her pussy. He pushed it in until it could go in no deeper, and then called out the number he saw on the markings on the acrylic rod. This apparently measured how deep her cunt was. He withdrew the rod, and then aimed it at her anus. Despite the captive's tearful gagged pleas, he inserted it into her, causing her to buck her head up. He pushed it in until it stopped, and he called out the measurement. All the measurements were duly recorded by the guard behind this desk.

The woman was next led to the last desk. Here, the fourth guard was now busy printing out something from a printer. Catwoman glanced down and could see that it was a series of stickers, with barcodes on them. He peeled off one of the bar-coded sticker, and pasted it on a plastic disk. He then placed the disk on a flat plastic panel, until there was a beep sound.

"Radio Frequency Identification Disk." Catwoman's slaver explained helpfully next to her as he observed the process.

The guard leading the Asian girl picked up the disk. It had a small snap-hook on one end, which he now attached to the D-ring in front of her collar.

"The first slave is now processed." Catwoman's slaver informed her, "Very efficient, don't you think?"

Catwoman could only moan softly into her gag in defiance.

One by one, the other women were processed in the same way as the first woman. After they were processed, they were lined up against the far wall, facing out, so that they could observe the others being put through the same procedure. They were ordered to stand with their feet placed wide apart, so that their cunt would be open to any of the guard who wished to paw them. Any sign of defiance was met with admonishments using the cattle prods.

The African athlete was the last one, and she at least tried to put up a show of resistance, but all too futile as she was held firmly by two burly guards, and put through the same humiliating procedure. Then, to punish her insolence, she was led next to Catwoman. A crotch rope was tied around her waist and groin, and she too was suspended from the ceiling, and whipped by the riding crop until she was sobbing.

"Now for this one." Catwoman's slaver said, looking at her. Guards lifted her off the hook, and it was fished out from under the lines binding her breasts. She was now led to the middle of the hall. The handcuffs binding her wrists were released and her wrists now pulled forward. Like the other women, her wrists were now crossed with her palms facing forward under the fingerless gloves encasing them, and they were bound together with a broad leather strap. When they were secured, the ropes that had been binding her for so long were now untied, and allowed to drop to the floor around her.

Even without the lines that had been binding her, Catwoman was in no position to resist, with her wrists bound together before her, her fingers trapped inside the gloves, and her feet still imprisoned in the cruel high-heels. Yet she tried. She pulled and bucked at the men holding her, until a cattle prod was applied to her. When that did not stop her from resisting, the prod was applied again and again, eliciting gagged cries of pain until her legs gave way, and she slumped down in the arms of her captors. Then she resisted no more as her wrists were pulled behind her back and hooked into place.

"You really are a wild one." Catwoman's slaver said, leering at her, glancing down at her naked breasts, which still had the red imprints of the lines that had bound them. He pulled up on her leash, forcing her to rise unsteadily to her feet.

"By right, you should be stripped completely naked." her slaver said, coming up to her, "But I want to break you as the infamous Catwoman, not as an ordinary woman. I'll keep that cowl on you for the time being, but the rest of your costume will have to go."

Saying that, the man took out a knife with a concave blade. He fed the blade under the fabric that remained between her breasts, and slashed sideways, severely the remnant of the purple lycra. The strap fell forward onto her stomach, barely her chest. Then he turned the blade and cut upwards until he reached her collar bones, parting the costume like curtains to either side of her chest. Pulling on the costume here and there to steady the fabric, he cut side ways around the right side of her neck, slicing through the lycra until he had reached the zipper of the costume, which he severed. He walked around to the other side, and continued cutting the fabric until he had cut clean around her throat, separating the cowl from the rest of the costume.

The man now pull on the fabric under Catwoman's right armpit, and cut upwards with his blade. The purple lycra parted ways up her right arm towards the elbow. When he reached the hem of the glove cladding her right arm, he pulled down the fabric as he continued to cut until the entire sleeve had been cut through. The purple fabric fell away from her right shoulder and across her back. When the man repeated the process with the left sleeve, the fabric fell back away from her naked torso to gather around her waist.

The man now cut down the right side of Catwoman's hip, cutting the fabric over the hip down to her thigh. He fished the fabric out of the top of her right boot until he had cut all the way through the legging, and the lycra gathered around her left leg, revealing her naked crotch, still criss-crossed with the red welts from her recent whipping and where the crotch rope had bitten into her soft flesh. When he cut away the left legging as well, Catwoman stood naked in the arms of her captors, with only her cowl still remaining, cladding her head.

Catwoman was then unceremoniously put through the same procedures as the other women. She was obviously a very shapely woman, and the measurements only proved that. She had to be wrestled into a bent over position for her probe. As the cool acrylic rod penetrated her cunt, and then her ass, she could only dip her head in humiliation at being measured in her lower tracts.

"My, you are a deep one," Catwoman's slaver mocked as he saw the measurement on the rod, "You should be able to take our largest dildos in your vagina and anus."

Then, still struggling, Catwoman was dragged to the last station. One of the guards took the disk that had been prepared for her, and stepped forward towards her collar.

"No, I have something else in mind." Catwoman's slaver said, "Bring me the hole puncher."

The command brought a chill to Catwoman's spine. She turned to see a tray being carried by a guard up to her. As she struggled, a guard held her torso steady while another two knelt down and pulled her long legs apart, so that her crotch was uncovered. Her slaver took a gauze soaked in alcohol, and knelt down between her legs. She felt a cold sting as the alcohol was rubbed against her clitoris hood, then a numbess.

"MMMMMMMMMPH!" Catwoman protested, as she tried to wriggle her hips.

"You better be still, if you don't want me to accidentally punch a hole in your clitoris." the man admonished as he picked up the hole-puncher on the tray and bent down again. Catwoman instantly stilled her struggles. There was a sharp snap, and the man stood up and placed the puncher on the tray, and took out a ring. The ring was about two inches in diameter, hinged at one end, and could be opened at the opposite end. He opened it, and bent down. She could feel nothing, but knew that he was now threading the ring through the holes he had punched in her clitoris hood. She heard the ring being snapped shut underneath her. Then the man reached up for the black plastic disk containing the barcode and RFID chip, and attached it to clitoris ring he had newly installed on her. When her legs were released and she was allowed to bring them together, she felt the disk dangle between her legs as she was led to the row of captive women.

With the Amazon still being punished, Catwoman was now head of the line. A guard came up to her and attached a double-ended leash to her collar. One end was hooked to the collar while the other was pulled to the captive next to her. The guard worked his way down the line until all the women were linked together. Then, picking up the original leash still attached to Catwoman's collar, he pulled her towards the door near where she stood. She reluctantly followed him, feeling the drag on the other leash as the women behind her began to turn and walk out.

Catwoman saw that the door led to a large warehouse space. It had bare concrete floor, and walls and ceilings made from zinc sheets. Here, she was shocked again, as her eyes laid on rows of cages, constructed out of chicken wire and wooden frames. These were placed in rows on the floor. Many of them were occupied by women, bound as she and her fellow captives were, with their arms on either side of their heads. They were all severely ball-gagged. The size of the cages were such that they could not stand up, so they had to kneel or sit on the floor, looking in despair out at the new arrivals.

Catwoman was led towards a cage, placed aside from the others. It was placed at a spot where all the other captives in their cages could see. Not only that, as she was led up to the cage, she saw that cameras had been mounted on tripods around the cages, peering in. Several old television sets had also been placed next to the cages, showing what the cameras were capturing.

The door of the cage – a wooden frame hinged on the frame of the cage, with chicken wire stapled over it – was open. The top of the cage reached her hips. She was unhooked from the others, and the guards pushed her towards the open door. She thought of resisting yet again, but the sharp bite of the cattle prod was again used to dissuade her. She knelt down on the concrete floor and crawled on her chins into the cage, her breasts swinging beneath her as she crawled. She found that the floor of the cage was made from rough wooden planks. The door was swung shut behind her, and she heard a lock snap into place.

Catwoman looked around her new prison. There was nothing much to see. It was just tall enough for her to sit up straight on her knees, and about six feet long, and four feet across. Towards the other end of the cage, she saw that the chicken wire didn't quite come down all the way to the floor, but left a low gap, through which a large plastic tray had been slid in. This tray was covered with kitty litter. It didn't take much imagination to figure out that this was her toilet.

Worse, it was clear that every moment of Catwoman's captivity in the cage would be caught on camera. As she peered out of the chicken wire walls of her cages, on both sides, she could see herself in the cage, being displayed on the TV sets next to the cages.

Catwoman almost could not recognize herself. She saw a pitiful visage on displays, her body mostly naked except for the boots, gloves and cowl. Even her cowl now, once a proud symbol of her identity as the fiercely independent and unconquerable Catwoman, now only served to mark her out as a unique catch, a special conquest, for her slaver. For the other women, at least, they would soon sink into the anonymity of being another sex slave. For her, as long as she wore her cowl, she would be have a distinctive identity, that of being a powerful feline female being reduced to nothing more than a caged pussy.

The way Catwoman saw herself being put on display filled her with even more humiliation. Her breasts were thrust wantonly forward, given the way she was bound, with her arms raised. The red welts on them, as well as the red marks of the ropes that had bound her body so tightly over the past days, reminded her of her abused status as a hapless captive of the man, to be tormented whenever he saw fit.

Catwoman turned around to witness the other women captives being led to their respective cages and locked up. Finally, the Amazon was led into the warehouse. She was led to a cage at the end of the row, near to where Catwoman was imprisoned. Instead of being placed in the cage, she was bent over it, with her legs spread wide open and her ankles tied to the frame of the cage. Her collar was then tied to the far end of the top of the cage, leaving her in the bent over position.

"Punishment for disobedience." Catwoman's slaver said. He was standing next to her, obviously enjoying the spectacle. He looked through the chicken wire at her bound form, a look of triumph at her captivity and humiliation. Then, as Catwoman watched helplessly, the guards began to line up behind the Amazon woman, who was weeping audibly now, waiting to be raped.

For the next few days, Catwoman, like the other captives, were kept in her cage. There was nothing for her to do, except to peer out at her fellow captives, and witness the various atrocities inflicted upon them. The African woman was horribly used by the guards, being kept in her bent over position for almost a day before she was finally released and placed in the cage that she had been raped repeatedly on.

The captives, were fed from feeding bowls slid underneath the door of their cages. Food for them consisted of some unknown stew that was foul-smelling, but at least satiated the hunger. They had to drink from water bowls as well, bending forward with their butts raised into the air as they dipped their jaws into the bowls to lap up the water with their tongues. They could not feed or drink with the ball-gags in their mouths, of course, so they had to wait for the guards to reach in through the gap over the door to pull the rubber balls out of their mouths. The balls were then allowed to dangle from their straps around their necks, like embarrassing necklaces around their throats.

However, Catwoman was not to enjoy the privileged treatment of simple slavery such as those accorded to the other women. Apparently, her slaver had something special reserved for her.

Catwoman had not been fed or watered since her second capture in her own home. It must have been almost two days now. Given the ordeal that she had endured, she was now both hungry and thirsty. Yet, even as the other captives were fed, she was very conspicuously not given any food or water, not even in the degrading way the others were given. She could only watch helplessly as her own hunger and thirst were not satiated.

Then, hours later, her slaver had finally made an appearance, proffering a bowl of milk.

"Would you like some milk, slave?" the man had asked, putting especial emphasis on the last word. Catwoman had recoiled at this word, and defiance flared in her heart. She had looked out with hatred and contempt.

"I guess not." the man had said, completely unmoved by the evil stare he received from the purple cowled figure in the cage. He turned the bowl and emptied the milk onto the head of the woman. Almost reflexively, she started to move her lips around the ball-gag in her mouth, trying to suck in the milk as it flowed past her mouth. The man laughed at this, and realizing what a humiliating spectacle she was making of herself, Catwoman stopped and hung her head in shame. Glancing aside at her own images in the TV sets around her, she saw only a desperate and forlorn figure staring back at her.

The man had waited until the end of the day to return. By then, Catwoman had been further weakened by hunger and thirst. She was laying on her side by then, and as he approached, she weakly lifted up her torso to look at him.

"Milk, slave?" the slaver asked. Catwoman had stared at him. Part of her wanted to resist, but her hunger and thirst was almost overwhelming at this point. Almost subconsciously, she had nodded in defeat, then hung her head as she understood that.

The man knelt down and unlocked the cage. He reached in and grabbed Catwoman's leash, and pulled hard. She choked and crawled weakly with her legs to relieve the pressure around her throat, until she was part way out of the cage. The man grabbed the strap holding the rubber ball in her mouth and pulled the ball out of her dry mouth.

"Slaves can only feed after they've worked." the man said, "This will apply to you too."

As the man spoke, still holding onto Catwoman's leash, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and lowered his trousers, and then his briefs. His penis was already erecting, pointing towards the captive's face.

"You will only eat after you're serviced your Master with your mouth." the man had said.

Catwoman had once again recoiled at this. To be make a helpless fuck toy, bound and gagged such that she could not resist being raped was one thing. To be forced to serve the man, give him a blow job 'willingly' was another.

"N…never!" Catwoman had replied hoarsely but reluctantly. The man had smiled. He had known that time was on his side. He had then replaced the ball-gag in Catwoman's mouth, and shoved her back into her cage, shutting the door. Then, cruelly, he had left the bowl of milk just outside the door, near enough for her to see and smell, but just out of reach.

Finally, on the third time, Catwoman's resistance had completely crumbled. Her bodily needs had been too great by this. The man had returned, once again with a bowl of milk, and once again, he had dragged her by her leash out of her crude cage. She could not even summon the strength to fix him with a stare of hatred. Her eyes, peering out through the eyeholes of her purple Catwoman cowl, were unfocused, but she had understood what was demanded of her. She had almost automatically assumed a kneeling position, sitting on her heels, with her arms bound in the upraised position. The man hooked a finger under the strap of her ball-gag and pulled it out of her mouth. The man pulled down his jeans and she had reached forward to encompass the growing fleshy member in her mouth. The man had grabbed her by her jaws, holding her cheeks in a vice-like grip, forcing her mouth into a pout, as he forced his penis into her mouth. This both formed her mouth into a good shape to give him a blow-job and prevented her from making any foolish move to bite his manhood off.

Catwoman had worked her head back and forth over the man's penis. She had done this before in her days as a prostitute, and she called on her old skills to give the man a good fellatio. Then, as the man ejaculated into her mouth, she had reflexively swallowed the man's juice. Finally, the man placed the bowl on the floor, and she was allowed to lower herself to feed from the bowl.

The entire episode was, of course, captured on camera. The man took great pleasure later in playing back Catwoman's humiliation for her on the TV sets. She could not avoid seeing herself sucking the man's cock, her purple-cowled head bobbing back and forth on the fleshy shaft, as the TV sets on both sides of her cage showed it. She could only watch helplessly as she saw what a spectacle her bound form made.

After forcing her submission that time, this became part of the routine. Unlike the other women, Catwoman was required to perform some service every time she was fed. And she had to do it in public, witnessed by her fellow captives and the cameras surrounding her cage.

Catwoman must either give whoever was feeding her a blow-job, or, if so required, she would have to turn herself around, lift her buttock high into the air, place her shoulders onto the ground with her face down such that her cunt was available for fucking. Then, she must cooperate in her own rape by working her hips back and forth, giving whoever was feeding her a good fuck. Only then, was she allowed to feed.

Other than milk, her slaver had taken especial pleasure in feeding her cat food rather than human food. The first time he did it, he had opened up the cans of cat food right in front of her, in view of the other captives, and dumping the greasy contents into the feeding bowl.

After a while, like the other women, Catwoman had to defecate and urinate. There was no privacy as they do their business. But for Catwoman, there was the added humiliation of having her own act caught on camera. She was reluctant at first to do it so openly. But, eventually, she could no longer hold the urine and shit inside of her. She crawled to the tray of kitty litter and squat over it. Even as her cheeks burnt with humiliation, she urinated and shitted onto the dry litter. To make matters worse, when the guards came round to clear the kitty litter, they had ordered her to raise her buttocks up into the air, and they had sprayed a powerful jet of cold water into the cage, onto her cunt, blasting any debris off. She had no choice but to cooperate for otherwise, she would not be cleaned at all.

After almost a week of this treatment in the cage, Catwoman had been reduced from a captive resisting her enslavement to one who was resigned to a reluctant cooperation in her own captivity. Her existence was reduced to a humdrum one, consisting of eating, sleeping, relieving herself, and getting fucked for food.

Catwoman began to lose count of the number of days she had been captured and kept in captivity. She had tried initially to count off, but by the fifth day, her mind was becoming too exhausted by a combination of tedium, poor diet, and mental abuse, to perform even this simple task of noting the passage of time. It was all she could do to keep shreds of clear thought together in her mind. In the increasingly rare moments when she could string two thoughts together, she did wonder if the food they were feeding her was somehow drugged, which would explain her difficulties in focusing, and - to her surprise and embarrassment - an increased horniness.

Indeed, Catwoman found that she was starting to juice every time her captors started to bring food around. She could not understand this. She was horrified in fact by how her body was responding each time her slaver, or one of his minions, came around with milk or cat food. Her nipples and clitoris began to engorge even without the men pawing her, which they did anyway for their own amusement. In fact, she found herself becoming an increasingly willing participant in her own debasement, fucking the men's cocks with almost nymphomaniac enthusiasm during her feeding session.

Catwoman was beginning to accumulate quite a bit of grime from her captivity, of course, so she needed a good wash now and then. This was done in as humiliating a manner as possible. The first time she was washed, her slaver had come and opened the cage. Then, with a hook mounted on the tip of a wooden pole, he had reached in and caught her clitoris ring. Then, without mercy, he had withdrawn the pole out of the cage, causing her much distress in her nether region. She had to crawl outwards on her knees, an awkward proposition with her arms raised high above her head, which caused her breasts to swing from side to side at the same time. Every moment of this mortifying scene was captured for her viewing later on the cameras.

"Stand up, slave!" the man had commanded, and Catwoman had no choice to obey when he pulled the pole upwards, manipulating her from the other end of the six foot pole. She rose unsteadily onto her feet, her prolonged stay in the cage having rendered her alien to standing on the killer heels.

Backing away, the man had led Catwoman, step by painful step, stumbling and tottering, pass the other caged women towards the other end of the warehouse of torment. Here, a crude washing arrangement had been set up. A short pipe had been planted crudely in the cement of the floor, with a tap fitted to its tip. In turn, a long coil of rubber hose, with a spray nozzle had been fitted to it. A long, thin and rusty chain had been secured around the base of the pipe, with a snap-hook shackled to the other end. As her slaver led her to the pipe, he picked up the snap-hook, and secured it to the ring fitted to her clitoris hood, before releasing the hook of his pole from her clit ring. Then he picked up the spray nozzle from the floor, and still standing a distance from her.

The cold and powerful jet of water hit Catwoman like a punch. She squirmed and screamed into her gag involuntarily as the water was played up and down her stained body. He concentrated especially on her breasts and crotch, taking pleasure in assaulting it with the power stream of water. She tried to back away from the assault. She could do so for a few feet, twisting her body and tottering back to defend her vulnerable regions from the water. But as she did so, the chain she was secured to began to play out and straighten. Then, it rose off the floor and brought her up short with a tug of her clitoris ring. This caused her to scream into her gag again, and stop. At this point, she had no defense against the jet of water, and could only turn this way and that to give some parts of her body at least some moments of respite.

Catwoman's torn purple lycra cowl had become completely soaked against her head, deepening in colour as it became soggy wet. Water flowed down her body and entered the tall tops of her boots, flooding the insides. As she stumbled around, water kept being pumped out of the top of the boots as her long legs moved within them.

"That should do." her slaver had said, "Now to get you dry."

Using the hooked pole, the slaver gained control of Catwoman's clitoris ring again. Then he reached forward and unhooked the chain from the ring. Having done that, he led her by the pole again towards the nearest wall. Here, an iron bar had been suspended by its middle by chain from a hoist in the ceiling. The bar had been lowered almost to the floor, suspending just a few inches from the floor, resting on the pair of manacles fitted to its two ends.

"Sit!" Catwoman's slaver had ordered, pointing to the bar. She did not need to be told more. She sat down on her wet rump and spread her legs, placing one ankle next to each of the manacle. As she did so, water flowed out of her boots onto the cement floor. Her slaver walked around her, still holding the pole. He gave it a light tug, which caused her to wince in pain.

"Move your ankles closer!" the slaver roared. Catwoman moved hastily to obey. Then, within a few moments, he had secured her ankles with the steel bands, ratcheting them shut with their internal locks. He then stepped back and unhooked his pole before he reached for a set of controls mounted on the wall. He pressed a button, and the hoist high above her began to whine. The chain suspending the bar began to retract, raising the bar up into the air.

Catwoman's rump had been first raised into the air, before she was flipped onto her back. Then as the chain continued to retract, her back was lifted clear off. Finally, she was lifted completely off the ground. The man stopped the hoist only when her head was lifted several feet off the ground. When he stepped up to her, she found herself looking directly at his crotch. Water continued to flow out of her boots, trickling down her body, past her heavy breasts, which now hung inverted as well from her chests, exposing their undersides, which, up to now, remained relatively unmarked by abuse.

Catwoman had been left hanging by her ankles, with her legs spread wide open by the bar for a while, but her slaver did not leave her alone for long. When he returned, he was holding a familiar object that sent a chill down his slave's spine. It was a cat-o-nine-tails. It was made out of braided leather, with its nine tentacles ending in sharp leather points. He had flicked it experimentally in the air for effect as he approached the feline burglar.

Then Catwoman's slaver had struck. He swung the braided leather tails heavily onto her crotch. Instantly, she bucked, twisting her torso around from the pain. She had screamed into her gag.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Catwoman's slaver, of course, did not let this deter him at all. Far from it. It only encouraged his lustful sadism as he had next aimed for her inverted breasts. He had struck with unrelenting force on her right breast.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPHHHHHHHHHH!" Catwoman screamed into her ball-gag again, her body arching back such that she looked onto the floor as she recoiled from the pain. Her spittle, drooling out of the corners of her mouth from her ball-gagged mouth, which had been flowing down her cheeks, flew into the air, splattering onto the floor.

Catwoman's slaver had waited until she returned to a vertical position, before delivering his next blow, punishing her left breast this time, aiming again for the pristine area unmarked by previous punishments. Again, Catwoman screamed and bucked from the pain of the blow.

Catwoman's slaver had stood up and walked around her. She had felt utterly helpless as she awaited the next blow. This one landed on her right buttock, causing her to arch her body forward this time. As she recoiled back to vertical, her wet breasts bounced against her body, juggling like jello before coming to a stop.

Catwoman's slaver had worked her over that time, alternating his attention on her crotch, her breasts and her buttocks until she was once again covered with fresh red welts. When he was exhausted, he had simply draped the instrument of her torment over her vulva, inserting its handle through her clitoris ring to prevent it from slipping off, before leaving her to dry out.

Catwoman had been released from her suspension only after several hours, by which time she was dry, with the exception of the deepest reaches of her boots. She was too weak to resist as the guards marched her back to her cage, once again using the hooked pole to control her through her clitoris ring. Once back in the cage, she had been forced to give one of the guards a blow-job while she was fucked in her cunt by another, before she was fed cat food once more, and then prodded back into her cage. As the cage door was locked behind her, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Catwoman's washing was now added to the regular ordeals she had to endure in her captivity. She would be washed daily, ostensibly to remove all the stench and dirt from her feeding and shitting, as well as the use of her mouth and cunt. But, it was obvious that these were also occasions for her to be punished by her slaver in full view of the other slaves and the guards, who would gather to watch the spectacle, adding to her humiliation at being reduced from a haughty cat burglar to nothing more than sexual entertainment for licentious men around her.

Aside from suspending Catwoman upside down, her slaver would sometimes alternate by suspending her from her elbows, so that she hung vertically, which allowed him to balance his whipping to the upper surfaces of her body, particularly her breasts, so that the gourds were filled evenly with red welts from her punishment. This was repeated on her buttocks, as well as her crotch and inner thighs. Each night, she could only fall into an exhausted sleep, weeping tears of futile anger and utter shame at her slavery.

"Get up, slave!"

Catwoman awoke with a start. She opened her eyes to look up from her fetal position on the floor of the cage at the owner of the voice. It was her slaver. He was holding the usual bowl of milk.

"Get up you lazy slut!" her slaver scolded. Catwoman quickly scrambled onto her knees. She did not want to anger the man. Helplessly bound and gagged as she was, she knew that she had no choice but to obey every command promptly. She knew what was expected of her, and when the cage door opened, she waddled out on her knees up to where the bowl had been placed. Then she looked up at him.

"Cunt." The man said curtly.

Catwoman understood, and bent down until her shoulders torched the floor. She spread her long legs behind her, putting her vulva on full display to the man, who was already pulling down his pants.

Catwoman was given a good fuck before the man pulled up his pants again. He reached forward and took the rubber ball out of her mouth, allowing her to feed hungrily from the bowl. Her ass waved in the air, while her breasts swung wildly beneath her as she attacked the bowl with gusto. When she was done, she raised herself back to a seated position on her knees, licking her milk stained lips with her tongue, which did not prevent milk from trickling down the sides of her jaws and neck, down her chest to her breasts. The man replaced her ball-gag at this point, imposing silence on her once more.

"Get up on your feet." the man ordered now. Catwoman did as she was told, getting unsteadily onto her feet. The man took up the hooked pole once more and fished the ring between her legs. Then he led her away from her cage.

To Catwoman's surprise, he did not lead her to the usual area where she was washed. Instead, he turned and led her by her clitoris hood out of the warehouse through a door to an adjoining room.

Catwoman had never been brought to this room before, and she looked at it with some curiosity. The design of the room reminded her of a garage. A closed garage door dominated one end of the room, but looked as if it had not been used for some time. In the centre of the room was a large pit, where car mechanics could crawl down to look at the undercarriages of cars. But instead of the jacks normally used to lift up cars, she saw two sets of long rubber treadmills had been set up, running across the pit. There was no usual handles or controls found on gym treadmills. These only had the rubber treads, supported on rollers arranged one next to the other. The rollers were secured, in turn to iron frames running on either side of the treads.

Catwoman was now led up to the nearer treadmill.

"Get on, slave." the man ordered. Catwoman had no choice but to obey as the man began to pull at the pole, adding tension to her clitoris ring. She hesitated for a brief moment, before walking onto the tread. The rubber was surprisingly firm under her boots. She guessed that in addition to the rubber, there must have been tracks of some sort underneath to add rigidity to the surface. She walked awkwardly on her super high heels to the centre of the treads. Here, to her concern, she saw that a bundle of grey wires with grey plastic pads at their ends were suspended from the ceiling above her. Looking up, she saw that they disappeared into a hole in the ceiling.

Catwoman's slaver now unhooked his pole before walking to the front of the treadmill. He picked up a brass snap-hook attached to the end of a chain there, and came up to his captive, where he attached the hook to her clitoris ring. Then he picked up a roll of duct tape that had been left conveniently on the floor next to the treadmill at this point.

The purpose of the tape was soon clear. Catwoman's slaver tore off a short length of the tape. He stood up and grabbed one of the wires, and picked up the pad at its end. He examined it for a moment, then placed the pad on her right nipple, covering it neatly. He then pasted the length of tape he had torn out across the pad and the skin of her breast next to it to hold it in place. The man tore off another piece of tape, and repeated the process with her left nipple.

The man tore off a third piece, and picked up yet another pad. This time, he moved around her to her rear, and pasted the pad against the rear of her pert right rump. He then came forward, grabbed another pad, and applied this one to her left rump.

The man was not done yet. He knelt down, and took the remaining pad. This one, he placed between her legs, just behind her clitoris ring, to cover her clitoris and the front tip of her vagina lips. He used a long strip to hold this one in place, pasting across from her clitoris hood, back to her anus.

The man now stood up and looked at his handiwork. Catwoman, standing rigidly erect on the treadmill, was connected up like some sort of experimental subject. Her eyes looked concerned at this arrangement, which prompted a small smile to appear on his lips.

"You must be wondering what all this is for," the man said, "All that feeding and sleeping is going to make you fat, so you will need to be exercised regularly to make sure that your lovely figure is maintained."

As the man spoke, all Catwoman could do was to stare ahead. A large mirror had been set up against the wall there, and she could see herself standing on the treadmill through the mirror. She thought she looked pathetic, with red welts all over her breasts, and with her purple cowl looking rugged and worn on her head.

"You, of course, can guess the consequences of falling behind the speed of the treadmill." the man said, pointing down at the chain connecting Catwoman's clitoris ring to the front of the treadmill, "But the purpose of these pads will be revealed only after your exercise session starts."

The man now walked to the front of the room, with Catwoman following him with her eyes. She knew that he would not be merciful, and it was with some apprehension as she watch him walk up to a set of controls mounted on a corner of the room. He threw a large electric switch with a flourish, and soon, the rubber treadmill began to move underneath her.

The speed was slow enough initially, such that Catwoman did not have much trouble keeping up with it, taking one difficult step after another in her impractical footwear. The six-inch high heels and her tip-toe position soon imposed great strain on her calf muscles, however, and they soon began to ache. Still, she did not dare to fall behind, as the snap-hook secured to her clitoris ring began to drag on it. She continued to take step after step.

Looking ahead, Catwoman could see that the heels were imposing a particular gait on her. Her hips were swaying from side to side, in an exaggerated slut walk. She realized that this must have been part of the intent of the man, forcing her to walk in this way, to add to her humiliation, but there was nothing she could do.

"Keep up!" Catwoman's slaver shouted.

Then, before Catwoman knew what happened, she felt a sharp bite on her right rump, almost as if a whip had hit her. She looked around, confused, but the man was still standing next to the controls. Then, she felt herself whipped on the left rump again, and gave an involuntary cry.

"MMMMPH!" Catwoman complained into her gag. Then, she felt a bite on her right nipple, and realization dawned on her. She was being 'whipped' by electricity through the pads attached to her body. The next bite was on her left nipple. The next one, she knew would be on her clitoris.

When it came, it seemed to be much worse than the other four. Perhaps that region was simply more sensitive. However, it felt as bad as if she had actually been whipped there, an experience the man had imposed on her so many times since her capture. Catwoman could only throw her head back and let out yet another gagged scream.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHHHHHH!"

Catwoman hurried to speed up her steps. But the man had increased the speed, forcing her to speed up even more. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that her hips were swaying in a more and more exaggerated fashion. Her breasts were now bouncing lightly before her chest. Beads of perspiration began to appear on her body.

"Faster!" the man ordered, cranking up the treadmill up a notch.

Catwoman groaned inwardly as she felt the rubber tracks beneath her moved faster. She fell momentarily behind, and immediately, she was shocked in her nipples, bums and cunt. She let out another gagged scream, and increased her steps, trying to catch up. She slipped back again, and was once more punished in her sensitive regions.

Catwoman had no choice but to break out into a jog. It was almost impossible in the high-heels imposed on her. She was almost stomping her booted feet forward. Her breasts juggled violently before her as perspiration was not pouring out of her body, trickling down her body, covering her breasts and buttocks enticingly with glistening beads. Her buttocks swayed from side to side as her wide hips rocked with each of her movement. Her calf muscles were aflamed now, and she was beginning to tire out. Her captivity had taken a toll on her previously phenomenal stamina.

The inevitable happened. Catwoman lost her balance, and with a gagged scream of despair, she fell forward onto the mill. She thought for sure that the clitoris ring would now tear through her clitoris hood, but the front of the chain gave way instead as she landed on her front, as the pads were ripped from her body. Nonetheless, the hook imparted a vicious tug on her clit ring as a final torment as the treadmill came to a sudden halt with Catwoman slumped, exhausted, at the end, having been transported there by the slowing rubber tracks.

"Lazy whore!" the man swore at her, but quietly, he was smiling. She had endured far longer than any woman he had placed on the treadmill. This even after a week of mistreatment. He knew that he had captured a very good specimen indeed. He could not wait until he finally broke her and made her his slave. In the meantime, he knew that he was going to enjoy the process.

Catwoman could not retort, but could only glance up tiredly at her slaver as he came around to her. She just felt so drained of energy, and her feet were killing her.

"You will be punished for your laziness." the man said solemnly. He picked up a pile of coiled rope and came over to where Catwoman lay. He dropped the ropes next to her sinuous supine form, with her buttocks rising proudly up from the valley of her svelte back and hips. He picked up one of the ropes and uncoiled it, before doubling it. He knelt down and folded up Catwoman's long left leg until her heel was pressed against her upper thigh. He then lashed the rope around her ankle and thigh, pressing them tightly together, before cross-lashing the rope around the first horizontal lines and tying a knot to secure the rope in place. This left her left leg tied up in the folded position. He took another rope and repeated this with her right leg.

The man now pulled Catwoman, unresisting in her stupor, up onto her knees. He took one of the rope, and used it to lash her left wrist down to her left upper arm. This secured her arm in a folded position in the same way her legs were already bound. He took the fourth coil of rope and did the same with her right arm. All four of her limbs were now bound in a folded position.

Once Catwoman's arms were secured in this way, the man bent down and unhooked her bound wrists from her collar, then unbuckled the strap that had bound them together. For the first time in a while, Catwoman could lower her arms forward, although, of course, she could not straighten them, given the way she was bound.

The man now took a fifth rope and hitched it to the D-ring on Catwoman's collar. He pulled on it, and forced her to drop her body forward again until she came to rest on her elbows. Then, pulling again, she was forced to mount her knee-caps such that she was standing on her elbows and knees, her body arched forward, her butt pointing upwards, with her breasts swaying freely beneath her.

The man gave Catwoman's rope leash another tug, and she was forced to follow him as he walked back into the warehouse, crawling on her elbows and knees. It was a difficult task, particularly for her already exhausted body. Soon, her elbows and knees were in pain, but she whimpered into her ball-gag. The man ignored her, and continued to lead her through the warehouse, past the other women and the guards, before turning and walking through another door.

Catwoman could only glance up to see what was in the room that she had been led into. She found herself in a small cafeteria, where the guards ate. There were several long tables, with benches on either sides of the tables, for them to sit. There were several guards there, seated around, taking their own breakfast. They very quickly noticed the naked Catwoman being led amongst their midst, her buttock swaying behind her, her breasts bouncing from her awkward crawl on the floor.

The man led Catwoman to the centre of the room, and then dropped the leash rope on the floor.

"This is your punishment, slave." the man sentenced, "You will amuse my men here, to be used as they see fit."

Glancing up, Catwoman saw the predatory looks in the faces of the men, and she could only hang her head back in shame. There was nothing she could do as the men came up to her, flipped her flat onto her back, and began to unbuckle their pants. Soon, the first man entered her defenseless cunt.

"MMMMMMMMMPPHHHHHH!" was all Catwoman could say to protest.

Catwoman had been raped repeatedly for hours, as guard after guard took her. After those in the cafeteria when she first went in tire out, new ones coming off duty took their turn and used her. They made use of her not only in her cunt, but also by squeezing her big breasts together to knead their own penis, or by forcing her to give them a blowjob, even as she was being fucked in the cunt. By the time the man returned, she was covered with dried semen and cum. She was almost happy to see him.

"So, will you be an obedient slave from now on?" the man asked mockingly as he looked down at Catwoman, pinned to the floor by two guards. She nodded enthusiastically in her desperation.

"Good. Get on all fours!" the man ordered as the guards released her arms. Catwoman twisted her body around as quickly as she could until she was once more standing on her elbows and knees. The man then stooped to pick up the rope leash. He gave it firm tug, and led her back into the warehouse again. She was led up to where the tap was. He connected up the hooked chain to her clitoris ring once more, and used the water spray to clean the dried juices off of her. She had no choice but to stand on her elbows and knees to allow the man to play the jet all over her body, from her swinging breasts to her exposed cunt behind her. When she was clean, he led her straight back to her cage without bothering to hang her out to dry. He did not untie her either, but led her crawling back to her cage. After crawling into the cage and circling it a bit, she settled down as best as she could in her new bound position, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next morning, her training session was repeated. Catwoman was once more led out of her cage into the garage. Her legs were untied so that she could unfold them, but the man left her arms bound in their folded position. As she mounted the treadmill, she looked at herself, with her bound arms now allowed to be lowered against her sides, pressing her heavy breasts together before her. Her elbows and knees were still blackened from the dirt on the floor that she had to crawl around on.

Once more, the man connected Catwoman up to the hooked chain and the electric pads, except that there was more this morning. Aside from the pads taped to her nipples, the apex of her buttocks, and her clitoris, the man pasted two more to each breasts, on the top and bottom. The buttocks also earned more pads, with two more attached to each rounded muscle, on top and below of the first. Then, more pads were pasted to the inside and outside of her thighs.

Catwoman did slightly better on that second day. She managed to keep up with even the higher speed, which allowed her to jog awkwardly on her high heels. Of course, she was encouraged on her endeavors by the sharp bites of electricity tormenting her all over her breasts, her buttocks, her clitoris and her thighs. She felt as if she was being whipped all over her body. All she could do was grunt and bear it.

As on the day before, Catwoman's body was soon soaked with her own perspiration. She lasted a little longer, but her body would inevitably tire out. Again, she fell ignominiously flat onto her stomach.

Catwoman's slaver came over to her, and gave an exaggerated sigh.

"What am I to do with you, you lazy slut." the man asked rhetorically. Catwoman could only sob as her legs were once again frog-tied, and she was led into the cafeteria to be used by the guards. Then, she was washed, fed and watered, and returned to the cage again.

This training regime lasted for the next few days. As time passed, Catwoman became better and better at walking and running on the ridiculous high-heels imposed on her, until she could actually balance quite well and move at quite a good speed in the boots.

One day, when the man came to fetch Catwoman again, he added a new wrinkle to her training. He led her to a corner of the warehouse where a set of long black rubber objects hung by hooks along the wall. As she was led close to them, she realized that they were dildos and anal plugs, all arranged by their sizes, from the shortest and thinnest to really engorged ones that had no realistic correspondence to actual human male anatomy. She realized what the man was going to do, and she cringed inwardly. He must have sensed her reluctance, for he gave her rope leash a firm tug to force her to crawl faster forward.

The man stepped up to the two rows of rubber objects. He looked at the top row first, which were the rubber dildos, sleek and long, glistening from repeated use. They were held in place in a row by circular steel brackets supporting their flanged bases. He selected one near the end, lifting it out of its bracket, hefting it to sense its weight. He turned to look down at Catwoman.

"This one?" The man asked.

Catwoman's eyes opened wide. It looked too large for any woman to handle. She shook her head vigorously, and shuddered to think how wide it would stretch her insides.

"Ah." the man pondered, returning the dildo to its hook, "Too small. Maybe this one."

"MMMMMMMPPHHHH!" Catwoman complained in alarm as he took the one that was one step up in size from the one he had held earlier. He smiled evily down at her as he took the dildo and picked up a squeeze tube of lubricant from a rack mounted on the wall next to the dildos. He popped the tube open and squeezed a generous amount of the transparent goo onto the rubber surface of the dildo. Replacing the tube in the rack, he rubbed the goo all over the rubber surface of the dildo. He walked around Catwoman on her elbows and knees. She shook her purple cowled head, pleading silently with him not to do it, but he ignored her. He squatted down behind her upraised butt, and aimed the blunt tip of the dildo at her vagina lips.

Catwoman felt the slippery tip of the dildo touch her vagina entrance, and shuddered involuntarily. Then, she moaned into her gag as the blunt tip entered her tunnel. It began to stretch the inner wall, causing her to throw back her head in despair at the sensation. As the monster continued to advance into her, she dropped her head back onto her chin and shook it, in a futile attempt to divert herself from the relentless advance of the monster.

"MMMMMMPH! MMMMMPH!" Catwoman pleaded. The man ignored her, and continued to push the dildo in.

"Hold your butt steady, slut!" The man ordered as Catwoman shook her hips. He slapped her right buttock savagely, causing her to buck.

"If you don't cooperate, I'll use a bigger one." the man threatened. Catwoman stopped her wriggling at once, and only moan into her gag as the man completed the insertion of the dildo in her, leaving only the knurled cap at the end of the shank outside the lips of her vulva.

The man now stood up and went over to the row of anal plugs, lined up underneath the dildos. They seemed to have been arranged in sizes corresponding to the dildos above them. He took the one under the gap left vacant by the dildo now residing within Catwoman's vagina. He applied a big helping of lubricant on the pointed rubber tip of the cone of the butt. He let it stand in his hand to let the goo slid down the cone to the flanged base of the plug. Replacing the tube on its rack, he rubbed the goo all over the cone and came around to Catwoman's rear.

Catwoman looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. Her propped open mouth continued to drool, dripping saliva onto the floor below her. Her slaver, of course, ignored her and knelt down behind her. Soon, she felt the tip of the cone being applied to the puckered mouth of her anus. She screwed her eyes shut at what she knew was coming next, as the point parted her sphincter and entered her.

As the cone advanced into her, its girth grew steadily. A shock shot up Catwoman's spine as the sphincter reached its elastic limit. She threw back her head once more at the pain. Her slaver eased off a little bit for a while, then renewed the advance of the cone, stretching her sphincter still further.

"MMMMMMMMPHHHHH!" Catwoman moaned into her ball-gag, as another bout of pain shot up from her ass.

The man eased off again, and let Catwoman rest for a couple of moments, then, with one firm shove, he pressed the plug in all the way until the sphincter closed over the flanged base, eliciting one final gagged moan from the enslaved feline bandit. She could only shake her head at the pain, panting and perspiring.

"Don't drop those now," the man warned, "Otherwise, I would just have to put in something bigger."

The man now took a piece of rope, already doubled, and belted the loop end around Catwoman's trim waist, just above her rounded hips. He fed the running ends through the loop under her stomach, drawing the lines tight to constrict it mercilessly around her torso, before pulling it forcefully back towards her crotch. He inserted the running ends through her clitoris ring, then made a knot in the lines just above her clitoris, before pulling the lines over the bases of the dildo and anal plug inserted in her lower orifices, before pulling the line sup between the cheeks of her buttocks, up the small of her back, to finally insert the running ends under the belt of rope around her waist. He pulled the lines back hard to tighten the lines over her crotch, before tying the lines in place. As the lines constricted over her crotch, the dildo and anal plug were pushed deeper into Catwoman, eliciting yet another gagged moan from the hapless captive. He still had several feet of free lines left, which he then knotted at one end, and allowed the lines to drop back down her crotch to dangle between her legs, forming a crude facsimile of a tail.

The man bent down to retrieve the rope leash again, and led Catwoman crawling out of the warehouse, back into the garage once more. He bent down and untied her legs, allowing her to unfold them.

"Stand up, slave." The man ordered. Catwoman got up unsteadily. The rubber dildo and plug felt large and heavy inside of her. She felt as if she wanted to go to the toilet, and her vagina wall was aching faintly from being stretched to such an unrealistic degree.

"Onto the treadmill, you lazy bitch." the man scolded. Catwoman turned and walked up onto the treadmill, up to the usual position, and waited while the man hooked her up in the usual manner. All the while, she could feel the dildo and plug pushing down against the crotch rope holding them in place. Their own weights alone would have sufficed to pull them out of her lubricated tracts if the lines had not held them in place. These attempted escape of the rubber monsters inside of her only added to her discomfort as their movements rubbed her vagina wall or stretched her sphincter uncomfortably.

The man threw the switch on the treadmill, and Catwoman began to pace on the mill. She found another difficulty created by the presence of the rubber toys inside of her. Their girths were so great that she had to spread her thighs somewhat so as not to jostle them. This made walking as she had become accustomed to in her high heels, placing one foot in front of the other, at an angle pointing diagonally out, was difficult. She had to use a more inelegant and manly walk, with her legs apart.

The discomfort only increased when the speed of the treadmill was increased. Try as Catwoman might, she could not keep from jostling the dildo and plug inside of her as she walked faster and faster. As she did so, the dildo and plug shoved in and out of her tracts. Adding to these irritations, the knot on the crotch rope over her clitoris was beginning to rub against her soft fleshy knob. As her training continued, she realized to her horror that she was becoming horny, as her clit was manipulated by the rope, and as the dildo and plug were shoved up and down her cunt and asshole.

"No!" Catwoman cursed in her heart, as she became more and more aroused. She began to pant, both from the exertion of the exercise regime, and from her increasing arousal. She knew she was beginning to juice when the dildo began to move even more freely in her love tunnel, which only increased her libido. Soon, she could feel the trickle of juice coming out of the wide opened mouth of her dildo to flow down the insides of her thighs.

"Faster!" Catwoman's slaver cried. She felt the first of the electric bites flare on her nipples. Under the electric pads, they were already engorged from her arousal. The shocks only seemed to make them even more sensitive, causing Catwoman to moan into her ball-gag.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmphhhh…"

The electric bites increased in number and intensity, shooting all over Catwoman's abused body, forcing her to walk faster and faster until she broke into a job. Of course, this only made things worse down below for her, as the dildo, the plug, and the crotch rope all assaulted her sensitive zones even more violently. She could feel an orgasm building inside of her even as she struggled to keep up with the speed of the machine.

The inevitable happened. Catwoman felt herself cum down below, as she threw her head back in the throes of an orgasm. The momentary loss of focus proved her undoing. She tripped and fell heavily onto her side, slipping off the treadmill into the pit. Thankfully, the chain hooked to her clitoris ring disconnected as she fell. The pit itself was lined with more rubber mats, which cushioned her fall. She landed on her back, her legs spread open, her vulva completely wet from her orgasm. She laid panting, with her eyes half closed.

The man stood over the pit for a moment, admiring the bound and gagged beauty in the pit. He was secretly delighted at the sight, particularly the horniness she had displayed when being placed in such a harsh bondage regime. She was giving him the most fun he had in years.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man scolded after a while, "Sleeping on the job? You will have to be punished!"

Catwoman could only shake her head weakly in protest, but it was no use. The man picked up the two pieces of rope that he had used to bind her legs previously, before climbing into the pit, grabbing her rope leash, and pulling her out of the pit. He led her, still wobbly from the exercise, from her orgasm and from the fall, back towards her cage. But instead of putting her back inside, he pulled her stomach against one of the edges across the top of the cage, and pulled her neck down towards the other edge. He tied her leash rope to the frame of the cage, leaving her bent over her cage. He then used the ropes that he had used to frog-tie her to bind her ankles to the two vertical posts of the frame on the side she was leaning against, binding her legs in a spread-open position. This, of course, left her crotch exposed for use.

The man pulled aside the lines of the crotch rope crossing over the base of the dildo and plug. He pulled the plug out unceremoniously, causing Catwoman to suck in a breath at the sensation. He placed the soiled plug on top of the cage, next to her bound body. Then he pulled out the long dildo, before letting the crotch lines nestle back over her vulva.

Catwoman twisted her head back in an effort to see what the man was doing. When she heard him unzip his pants, she guessed that she was about to be raped again. Then, she felt the hotness of the tip of his penis press against her anus, and her eyes widened.

Catwoman had been a prostitute before, and she certainly had been paid to be taken in her ass before. She never really liked it, because it hurt if the client did not do it gently. She knew that this man would not be gentle. On top of that, she was already used to being used as a fuck toy in her cunt, but this was the first time she was to be raped in her ass as well. This drove home cruelly the fact that she was nothing more than a sex slave now, to be used as the man saw fit, with no limits as to what they could do to her.

Catwoman looked ahead of her as she felt the man begin to penetrate her ass. She saw the TV display the scene from the cameras' point of view, of her bound body bent over the cage, and the man penetrating her from behind. Her head was still covered by her Catwoman purple cowl, but that mask had long lost its former significance as a symbol of her independence and skill. She realized that by letting her continue to wear her cowl, the man was merely driving home the point that she had been captured, bound, raped, and abused as the mighty Catwoman, not as the lowly human former prostitute Selina Kyle. Even her powerful alter ego had been defeated and brought low, just like any other women would, by the man. As the man's hot penis drove deep into her rectum, Catwoman felt the crushing weight of defeat and humiliation weigh on her heart, and tears trickled out of the corner of her eyes.

Catwoman had been left on the top of the cage for the rest of the day. Of course, the guards were allowed to make of her in her vulnerable state, in both her ass and her cunt. If there was any mercy shown to her, it was that her mouth continued to be gagged, sparing that orifice from abuse. Nonetheless, by evening, her cunt and asshole were heavily stained with semen and cum. Her asshole, especially, was a slack oval band, with white sludge flowing out of it.

Catwoman's slaver had returned.

"Have we learnt our lesson, slut?" the man demanded sternly. Catwoman could only nod, lowering her eyes automatically in capitulation. The man smiled at this. He walked around behind her, and shoved the dildo and anal plug back into her cunt and ass, securing them in place with the crotch rope. Then he released her from her bondage position over the cage, allowing her to slide down onto the floor. He flipped her onto her back, and proceeded to bound her legs in a frog-tied position, restoring her to her usual position. Then he put her back into her cage and fed her.

The man continued Catwoman's training for the next few days. Each time produced the same results, in terms of how horny she got, and how she orgased during her training. But prepared for this eventuality now, she was able to continue jogging even as she felt the throes of orgasm. She would merely moan and pant, but she continued.

The man now added more elements to her training.

"You are walking like a man, Catslut." the man scolded her, "You will have to learn to walk with your legs together."

Catwoman's slaver then imposed a hobble skirt on her. It was constructed out of thick rubber. It resembled a keystone in its shape, with a square top, and a wide base. This wide base was wrapped around her long thighs, covering them. When the series of buckled straps lining their sides were done up, from behind her knees up to her rump, they forced her knees together, forming her thighs into the shape of an inverted A. The top panel is then pulled over her groin, and the belt threaded through its top tightened around her narrow waist.

Catwoman found that the elegant posture of her legs imposed by the skirt forced the dildo and the plug further inside of her. It upped the level of discomfort just when she got used to walking with their presence inside of her lower orifices. She found that the skirt also imposed a particular way of walking on her, forcing her to place one arched foot directly in front of the other, landing almost on the outer side of her feet, in an elegant walk. This would force her hips to sway from side to side in an even more exaggerated manner, making her look very sexy indeed.

Catwoman again had some initial difficulty with the hobble skirt. Of course, she was punished again. This time, she was brought to the toilet used by the guards. She was placed in one of the stalls, on the toilet bowl, with her legs still frog-tied. They were then kept spread open by two ropes, one each being tied around her upper thighs under the crook formed by her folded legs. The other ends of the ropes were then tied to eyebolts screwed into the top of the walls of the stall, on either side of her, forcing her to not only spread her legs, but also raise her butt, exposing her cunt for use. Which the guards made liberal use of again. Catwoman could only endure her abuse as much as she could.

As always, Catwoman got better after a few days. She could now walked most elegantly with the hobble skirt imposed on her. That was when the man introduced the corset to her.

Catwoman had worn corsets before, of course. She did like to wear them, as they shaped her already beautiful body to an even more sexy hour-glass. She liked to use them especially in her dominatrix routines, wearing a strapless PVC version, together with PVC leggings.

The one the man produced was almost like this version, but was of black rubber, like the hobble skirt. Instead of lacings, the corset had sturdy steel snap-fasteners, which was absolutely necessary given the powerful elastic pull the rubber imposed. This corset was molded to resemble the shape of a classic corset with vertical bonings, but it did not contain actual bonings. This did not mean, however, that it was any easier to wear. The heavy was heavy and not very elastic, although it would stretch if sufficient force was applied to stretch it.

Human arms were not sufficient to do so, so the corset was initially spread open across a curved iron frame. The ends of the corsets had D-rings mounted on their tops and hems. These were hooked over studs on the four corners of the iron frame. The iron frame itself was hinged in the center, and could be closed, bringing its sides together, almost like a book. The curved nature of the frame formed a space between its curved arms to accommodate a person.

The frame was set up in a corner of the warehouse, and Catwoman had been brought up to the corseting machine. She was marched up against the stretched rubber corset, the top of which came up to the undersides of her breasts. Two semi-circular scoops on the top of the corset allowed her breasts to flow over the top of the corsets to rest against its rubbery surface. Then, with her arms raised, the arms were closed by a motor, bringing the ends of the corsets together behind her. Almost immediately, she felt the almost crushing squeeze of the rubber corset. She felt as if a giant hand had grabbed her by her waist, and applied a powerful constriction to it, rearranging her organs underneath, pushing up her breasts and pushing down her hips. The man had applied the powerful snap fasteners behind her, imprisoning her in the rubber prison, and preventing the corset from opening on its own. When she was released, she found that she could only breathe in small and quick breaths, which she had to do carefully, for otherwise she might hyperventilate.

Catwoman had been led to a standing mirror to examine herself. She must admit that the corset had imposed a formidable hour-glass figure on her. Her already trim waist seemed to have been reduced drastically, which only served to exaggerate the expanse of her breasts and the flare of her hips. The rubber of the corset had been rubbed with silicon to a glossy shine, which added only to its sexy glamour.

Catwoman had been placed back onto the treadmill. Again, she found it difficult at first, given how it was impossible for her to take in enough air to keep up the pace. She felt faint after a short while, and almost stumbled off the treadmill, but she gritted her teeth over her ball-gag, and somehow managed to continue.

The man, of course, was pleased. He had doubted the wisdom of this latest imposition. No other human woman would have been able to endure it. Catwoman, somehow, had managed to overcome the corset the first time she tried it. She was truly an exceptional specimen. It was definitely worth his while to break her to his will.

"Very good, Catslave." the man said, stopping the machine, bringing the rubber tracks to a slow halt. Catwoman came to a stop, panting, beads of perspirations covering her exposed flesh. Her purple cowl was dark with moisture as usual, and the man wrinkled his nose. It was beginning to smell, and much as he wanted to keep it on her, it clearly was time for it to go.

"Kneel." the man ordered. Catwoman climbed off the treadmill and slowly got onto her knees. It wasn't easy as she was still wearing the hobble-skirt that was part of her training. He now removed this garment and put it aside. Underneath, beads of perspiration covered her long shapely thighs.

"Forward onto your elbows, slut." the man ordered. Catwoman did as she was told, and bent forward until her elbows touched the floor. He knelt down and folded up her left leg, binding it in place, then did the same to her right leg, forcing her once again to stand on her elbows and knees. He grabbed her rope leash, and gave it a tug. He did not have to pull her along nowadays. She put up no resistance as he walked out of the garage, following him as best as she could, crawling on her elbows and knees.

The man led her out of the garage, then the warehouse, turning into a staircase Catwoman had never seen before. He led her up the steps of the staircase, being surprisingly patient with her as she had trouble negotiating the stairs, bound as she was. Somehow, she managed to negotiate the steps on her elbows and knees, finally emerging on the second floor. She found herself looking down a corridor with a row of doors down each side. To her, it looked rather like the cheap whorehouse that she had first started out in when she was a prostitute.

The man led Catwoman down the corridor to a door at the end. He opened it and led her into a room. For a moment, she blinked at the bright lights in the room, but when her eyes adjusted, she was surprised to find herself in a room that was white-tiled on all its walls and floor. The ceiling was also neatly painted, and fitted with white lights. Everything about the room was clean and sterile looking, in sharp contrast to the filth that she had been kept in since she was brought to this place.

And where was this place, precisely? Catwoman did not know. In fact, she was surprised she had not actually thought about this question. Her mind had been occupied almost exclusively by the torment that she had suffered at the hands of the man. She knew that she was in some sort of Third World country, and the guards as well as the people she had glimpsed during her road trip from the airfield seemed to indicate she was somewhere in South America. But beyond that, there was nothing to hint at where she had been brought to.

Catwoman glanced around the room, and saw that it was equipped with a white tub sunk into the floor, enough for two persons to lay in. In the center of the room, there was a metallic bar suspended from a hoist in the ceiling, which resembled the one she been suspended from to dry in the dirty warehouse prison, except that this one was of shiny chrome steel. The room had air-conditioning, which felt cool and wonderful against the sweaty body of the slave as she crawled on the tiles, being led by her slaver towards the bar.

The man stopped her just under the steel bar. It had been lowered to about the height of his chest as Catwoman was brought to a stop under it.

"Sit back on your heels." the man ordered. Catwoman obeyed almost instantly, raising her torso off the floor, with her bound arms lowered down by her sides. The man reached down and untied her right arm, and allowed her to unfold it, but then immediately pulled it back behind her, preventing her from making any attempt to strike at him. He pulled the opera glove off her right arm, before rotating her arm forward and up towards one end of the bar. There were metal manacles fitted to either end, and he opened the swing arm of the one on the right end, swung it around to encircle it around the right wrist of Catwoman, ratcheting it shut on its internal locks. Then, he untied her left arm, and repeated the process, stripping the fingerless glove that had clad it for so long, before securing the other manacle around her left wrist.

The man now untied Catwoman's legs. He took her left leg, and pulled it back, leaving her balanced on her right knee. She had to grab the steel bar she was manacled to for balance as he did so. She heard the zip of the boot being undone. The boot was then pulled off her foot, and dropped onto the floor. Replacing the leg on the floor, the man now turned to her right leg and took off the boot cladding it too, leaving her long legs uncovered for the first time in a long while. Once the boots were off, the man disappeared for a moment, and she heard a drawer being slid softly open. When the man returned, he was carrying chromed steel leg irons, a pair of large cuffs connected by a short chain. He squatted down behind the kneeling Catwoman and cuffed her ankles together.

When the man was done, he stood up and disappeared from view again. Catwoman heard the click of a switch being turned on, and the steel bar she was bound to begun to rise quietly towards the ceiling, as the chain suspending it disappeared link by link through a hole in the ceiling, until she was standing on tip-toes on her bare feet, her chest thrust forward and juggling lightly. The man went around behind her and untied her crotch rope. When the tension from the lines was released, the heavy dildo slid out of her lubricated vagina, falling with a soft plop between her manacle feet. Then, she felt her rectum retract, and the anal plug suddenly shot out from her ass, bounced on the tiled floor to land behind her.

The rope belt was still tied around her waist, under Catwoman's corset. The man now went behind her. He unfastened the clamps holding the ends together, and the garment almost sprung away from her body to flop onto the floor. With a sigh of relief, the chained captive glanced down at her torso to see the red imprints left by the inside of the corset on her soft flesh. With the rope belt now uncovered, the man completed the removal of the crotch rope and threw it aside.

The man next reached up and unbuckled the collar around Catwoman's throat. He let it fall to the ground as well. Then he unbuckled Catwoman's ball-gag. This too was allowed to fall to the floor. Catwoman closed her aching jaws and swallowed reflexively, tasting the rubber tainted saliva.

The man came around to the front of Catwoman. For a moment, he looked up at her, as if contemplating something. Then, with a flash, he pulled the purple cowl off of Catwoman's head, revealing the face of Selina Kyle for the first time since her second capture. Her hair was in a mess, and her make-up had long since been completely destroyed. Unlike the proud Catwoman, she looked tired and beaten subjugated. Her eyes popped open in shock at this move. The cowl was the only thing that had covered this fact. Now that it was suddenly ripped from her head, she felt all the more that she had been reduced to nothing more than a sex slave, in spite of the fact that had already been bound, gagged and sexually abused. This seemed the final nail in her identity as Catwoman, reducing her back to her former status as a cheap whore, an identity she had worked so hard over the years to distance herself from, remaking herself into a wealthy socialite as Selina Kyle, and as the dangerous Catwoman. Both have now been destroyed at the hands of the man.

"You are now no longer Catwoman, slut. In fact, you're not even Selina Kyle, the socialite." the man said, twirling the purple lycra cowl in his hand, "You're what you are really, that whore who call herself simply Selina as she does tricks by the roadside."

Selina thought of replying, but screwed her lips shut. She knew that it would only earn her some horrible punishment. Instead, she merely nodded submissively as the man threw the cowl aside.

"You are in a mess. We must clean you up." the man said. Suddenly, he raised his hands and clapped once. A white door in the corner of the room immediately opened and a pair of figure stepped in.

Selina gaped at the figures. They were obviously feminine, but they were clad entirely from head to toe in white latex. Both of them wore a latex catsuit with a high neck that reached their chin. It extended down their sleek bodies, adhering to every curve of their firm breasts and wide hips as it plunged down. The crotch of the catsuit was jammed up tight against their pussy, forming uncomfortable looking camel toes on their crotches. The leggings that flowed down from there clad their long thin legs, before ending up in white PVC ankle boots. Besides their catsuits, they wore white latex opera gloves, but these had fingers, unlike the ones she had been forced to wear during her second capture. On their heads, they wore a latex helmet that covered their entire head, including their faces, leaving only two brass gromets where their noses would be underneath, as well as mirrored lenses covering eyeholes over their eyes.

The women came towards Selina and reached up to the bar she was suspended from. With a soft click, the bar separated from the chain suspending it, allowing the slave to drop her arms. But she could not bring her wrists together, of course, as they were still secured on opposite ends of the bar. Then, one of the women kicked the back of her knees in, forcing her to fall on all fours. The other woman bent down and smacked her hard on her right buttock.

"Ouch!" Selina complained.

"Silence! Or the gag goes back in, understood?" the man admonished.

Selina nodded her head. She followed the two women as they walked towards the tub. She could not help but look up at the twisting butts of the two women marching ahead of her. She suddenly found herself feeling horny again. She was surprised at this. She was bisexual, of course, and had done both men and women, both in her days as a prostitute, and subsequently as a socialite and as Catwoman. Being aroused by good looking women did not surprise her. What did surprise her was how the intense, almost nympho, triggering of her libido seemed to cross over from being abused by the men to being kept in her place by other women.

By other slaves, Selina corrected herself. Looking up between the legs of the two women, she realized that there were two vague circles pressing against the tight crotch of the catsuit of each of the women. She knew all too well these were. They were butt plugs and dildos as well. Obviously, these women were just as stuffed as she was.

Selina was led to the tub and she climbed in carefully. The two women climbed in after her, and one of them picked up a shower head attached via a metal tube to a tap at the head of the tub. She turned it on and began to spray water onto the slave's sore body. She used a gloved latex hand to rub her body as she sprayed the water. She worked the spray back towards her pussy, washing away the grime on her cunt.

Selina moaned as she felt the woman insert her fingers into her slack sphincter, and twirl it around, before pulling them out, then penetrating her vagina to repeat the process. She lifted her head up and turned back with half closed eyes to look at the woman molesting her. Her eyes rested on the firm breasts that were poking provocatively at the thin rubber covering them, their nipples obviously engorged from arousal.

The woman now worked the spray under Selina's body. Her fingers now lingered over her firm breasts. As water was sprayed up at the gourds, she kneaded them, twirling their nipples. Selina could only moan at this treatment.

The woman lifted the shower head up now and sprayed Selina's head, wetting down her hair and face, flushing away the collection of perspiration and dirt that had accumulated under her cowl.

The other woman now stepped in. She took a sponge from the side of the tub, and a bottle of soap. She squeezed a generous amount of soap gel into the sponge, and lathered it until it was soapy. She then began to rub the sponge all over Selina. Once again, she moaned as she felt the roughness of the sponge play over her body, especially when it was rubbed into her asshole and cunt. She felt her body become more and more horny at this treatment. When the second woman finished sponging all over her body, including a vigorous scrub of her head, the first woman sprayed the soap off of her body until she was clean.

The two women now led Selina out of the tub. As she remained on all fours, the two women took towels from racks on the side of the wall nearest to the tub, and rubbed her dry. Once again, they paid special attention to her breasts and her cunt, causing the nympho slave to become still more aroused.

The two women now stood to one side, leaving Selina to brew in her sexual desire. The man now came up to her, and looked down at the softly panting slave.

"Her hair is in a mess." the man said, "Shave it all off."

Selina's eyes opened wide at this command, as if she was horrified, but she said nothing. The man smiled again in triumph. He knew that he had touched something in her, but she had kept silent, like a proper slave should.

The two women disappeared from view. When they returned, one of them was carrying a battery powered shaver. While the other woman now held Selina's head firmly, the first one switched it on. Its malicious buzz filled the room as the woman set to work, shaving the raven black locks off of the slave's head, leaving a short fuzz on her scalp. When they were done, one of the women took a handheld mirror and held it before her face to see her new haircut. She had to admit it was not too bad, actually. In fact, it reminded her of her androgynous haircut when she was a professional dominatrix.

The man came around again, and seemed please with Selina's new look as the other two women brushed any remaining hair off her nude body.

"Not bad. On your feet now, Selina." the man ordered.

Selina obeyed, climbing back onto her feet and holding her body erect before him, her breasts pointing proudly out as she tilted her buttocks back, feeling a strange pride at displaying her body before the man. She could not understand the sensation, but it was almost as if she appreciated being appreciated by the man as he looked up and down her body.

The man seemed to make up his mind about something, then snap another command.

"Dress her up. I'm bringing her out for dinner tonight." the man ordered.

The two women immediately grabbed Selina's arms and led her through the door that they had come in from. She was surprised to find herself now in a walk-in wardrobe that would have been the envy of any socialite in Gotham, filled with a variety of dresses and clothing, both fetishistic and normal street clothes.

"Bend over, slave, and spread your legs." the man ordered. Selina did she was told, bending over and placing her manacled hands on her knees, pointing her cunt back at him. The man reached forward and took the clitoris ring off her clit hood, before disappearing. Glancing back, she saw that the man had retrieved the dildo and butt plug that had been placed on her from the other room. They had been cleaned up, and were freshly lubricated. As they were inserted back into her, she found that they were no longer as uncomfortable as the first time they had been imposed on her.

As the man had not given her permission to straighten up, Selina remained bent over. The man went over to a chest of wooden drawers and withdrew something. It took a while for Selina to recognize it. It was made out of pliable transparent plastic, but it was shaped in the classical 'Y' shape of a chastity belt. It was secured by means of a small lock, the tiny flat box of which was bolted to one end, with steel tongues on the other two ends to complete the other half of the lock. He came over to where Selina was, and quickly fitted the belt in place around her waist, and over her crotch.

"Straighten up. But keep your legs apart." the man ordered.

The women now came forward. One of them held something in black lace, with black ribbons emerging from its four corners. She slipped it between Selina's legs, and picked up two of the ribbons while her colleague picked up the other two. The pairs were mated together separately, one set each over one of her hips, to leave her wearing a black lace thong over the transparent chastity belt.

The women retreated back to the wardrobe again, only to return with a corset stretched open between them. Unlike the rubber one she had just recently one, this one was made out of black satin and steel boning, and closed by hook and loops, which the women secured up her back once they've enslaved her torso with the garment. They came around to the front, and lovingly molded her breasts into the black lacy cups of the corset, leaving her breasts pressed together and upwards into a deep cleavage.

The women went over to another corner of the wardrobe, and came back with a pair of shoes. These were high-heeled sling-backs, whose body was made from black PVC. The heels, although high for most people, were a mere five inches compared to the horrid boots she had been forced to run in. Selina lifted back first her right foot, then her left foot for the women to put the high heels on her, boosting her height up once again, and putting her torso into that enticing arch, with her butt tilted back and her chest tilted forward.

"Put some make-up on her." the man ordered. The women now escorted Selina over to a vanity top. They seated her down on a cushioned bench. She sucked in her breath as the dildo and buttplug inserted into her was pressed up. She involuntarily clinched her buttocks. The women worked quickly on her, applying a base of pale foundation, followed by flashy red rogue, and purple eyeshadows. Her eyes were then lined with thick eye-lining, before thick mascara was applied to her eyelashes. Finally, her hips were painted a deep burgundy red to set off their pouty shape. When Selina looked at herself in the mirror again, she must admit that the women had done a very professional job, and all her best features, from her thick lips, to her high cheekbones, to her large green eyes, were beautifully highlighted.

Then, the women brought her up to her feet again, and Selina was brought back to the center of the room for the man's inspection.

"Very nice." the man breathed. He walked around Selina, admiring her beautiful body, clad now in lingerie. She lowered her eyes demurely.

"But if we are to go out in the open, you will have to be suitably restrained to prevent any escape attempts." the man added.

Before Selina could comprehend what he meant, the two women seized her arms again. While one of them held her elbows against her sides, the other took a long black satin ribbon, and wrapped it around her upper arms and torso, crossing under her breasts. She crossed the ends of the ribbon behind her back and brought them over her chest again, this time above her breasts, before pulling the ends behind her again. She knotted the two ends together behind her back, pinning her arms to her sides. There were still some lengths remaining free at the ends, which she now slipped under the arms of Selina. She pulled the free ends out from under her arms, before looping them down over the satin lines running around her breasts, and back under her arms again, before pulling them round behind her back. She knotted the ends together a second time, adding the touch of a neat little bow, as if Selina was being gift-wrapped, which in a sense she was.

"Put your legs together." the man ordered, and Selina obeyed.

The woman retrieved a second black ribbon, and this time doubled it and tied the loop end around Selina's clinched waist as a satin belt. She pulled the running ends through the loop, and pulled them down, as if she was going to tie a crotch rope. But instead of inserting them back between her legs, she turned the lines perpendicularly, and loop the free lines around her upper thighs, just underneath her buttocks, round to the front again, where she tucked the running ends through the bent formed when she first turned the lines. She looped the lines back the way they came, around her legs again, under her buttocks, back to the front again, where she now tied the running ends to the vertical lines coming down from the belt portion of the bondage. This left Selina's legs now trapped together. She knew she could still walk, but she would not be able to make any larger movement, such as kicking or running.

"Her mouth." the man demanded.

One of the women now grabbed Selina's lower jaw and the top of her head, and forced the former open. The other woman went over to the wardrobe and returned with a black lacy satin panties. It was a large pair that would have covered the whole of Selina's lower hips, but they were not meant for her crotch. The woman folded it into a square, then inserted the panties into her mouth. The black satin garment almost disappeared between her lips. The woman then took a black ribbon. She forced it in between Selina's jaws and between the fold of the square of satin in her mouth, before pulling it around her head to tie it behind the back of her head. When the first woman released Selina's jaws, her mouth closed over the panty, and there was almost no hint that she was gagged, with the exception of the black ribbon emerging from the corners of her mouth. This was soon solved when the women took a black wig, cut in a bob style, and placed it over her head. The sides of the wig came down the sides of her cheeks and neatly covered the corners of her mouth, making it seems as if there was nothing more untoward than a rather forced smile on her lips.

The women went back to the wardrobe and retrieved a black pencil skirt of satin. It was zipped back on the back, which they opened for Selina to step into. When they brought the skirt up to her hips and zipped it in place, she realized that the dress forced her legs together, like the hobble skirt she had been forced to wear on her training.

The women retrieved another piece of clothing and came back to Selina. It was a black satin shawl, which was closed in the front by a hidden heavy duty zip. They opened it up, and draped it over her arms, leaving her shoulders bare, but when they wrapped it tightly around her and zipped up the hidden zip, Selina found that the tough satin squeezed her arms in, adding its own restriction to the binding of black ribbon around her arms.

The women next took a pair of black satin gloves of unique arrangement from a drawer. Selina saw to her surprise that they were linked together at the fingers by a small clutch bag of black patent leather. The arrangement soon revealed itself when the women unhooked the clutch bag from the gloves, and put these on Selina. She found that although they appeared to be regular opera gloves on the outside, the fingers had in fact been stitched together, and she could not separate her fingers from each other. She could only use her thumbs. There was also a loop of satin under her wrists. These were actually the exposed portion of black satin ribbons that went around her wrists in the glove, twice. When the loops were pulled out, the ribbons constricted around her wrists, gripping them tightly like bindings, which in fact they are.

The small clutch bag was actually a critical component of the bondage. Behind the bag, two snap-hooks had been fitted. They brought it up to Selina, and placed the hooks through the satin loops of her gloves. These now linked her wrists together like handcuffs, with the stiff bag preventing her from bringing her hands together to liberate herself. Her thumbs were now folded over the top of the bag, and captured by tiny ratcheted cuffs, which prevent her from relinquishing control of the bag, and thus ruining the illusion.

Selina was now led before a tall mirror. She must admit, if she had not known, she would not have guessed that the figure looking out at her was, in fact, in bondage, with her arms bound to her torso, her wrists secured together, and her thighs very effectively hobbled. Of her gag, there was no sign at all, except her fixed smile, which looked a little grotesque, but not noticeably so.

"Very good." the man said. He grabbed Selina by the left arm, and now led her out of the room via a different door she had been brought in by. They went down a posh looking corridor, which reminded Selina of a posh hotel. She would never have guessed that behind her was a place where sex slaves were being kept in bondage and torment.

The man turned a corner and Selina found herself looking at a crowded lobby of a hotel. The man's grip tightened, in case she made any attempt to escape, but she was too well bound to try anything of that sort. Her eyes darted from side to side to see if anyone noticed that she was actually bound, but apart from admiring glances from men and women in the lobby, she was marched uneventfully through the lobby and out the door, where a long black stretched limousine was already waiting. The doorman held the door open as she was marched up to the car.

"Get in, sweety," the man said ironically, as he bent her firmly over. Selina contemplated for a brief moment making a move to try to draw attention to her predicament, but the dildo and buttplug inside of her suddenly roared to life. Her legs suddenly turned wobbly again, and she half fell into the back of the limousine.

"Careful now." The man said, giving her raised butt a tight slap, turning to smile at the astonished doorman, and gave him a fat tip before climbing into the limousine. The doorman thanked the man, took one last lustful look at the shapely woman now on her hands and knees in the roomy back compartment of the limousine, and closed the door firmly.

Now safely shielded by the dark-tinted windows of the car, the man hooked a finger through the ribbon gagging Selina, and turned her to face him.

"You were naughty just now. I think you should be punished." the man said. He reached up and unzipped the back of Selina's skirt and slipped it back and down, uncovering her rump. He raised his right hand, and brought it down in a powerful slap.

"MMMMPH!" Selina cried into her panty gag. She bucked from the blow, surprised at how painful it was.

The man delivered another slap, eliciting another cry from Selina. He delivered a third slap, and this time, she bucked her head back, throwing back the black strands of her wig, exposing the ribbon of her gag. The man continued slapping her buttocks until they were both glowing red.

"Will you be obedient now?" the man demanded. Selina nodded her head vigorously.

"Good." the man said, "Now turn around to face the front."

Selina did as she was told, shuffling around to face the front as her hands rested on the clutch bag she was cuffed to. She felt the man untie the right set of ribbons of her thong, and the tiny garment slip down her left leg. Then, the back of her chastity belt was undone, and the crotch strap pulled back from her crotch. Soon, the dildo was slid out of her and placed on the seat next to the man. The man then undid his pants, and before long, he was fucking her in her cunt.

The limousine took another half an hour to arrive at a posh restaurant, by which time the man had gave Selina a good fucking, and had restored her chastity belt, thong and skirt back into place. He forced her to kneel on the floor of the limousine until they were at the restaurant, when he pulled her back onto the seat, for appearance's sake. When they reached the restaurant, he got out first, and reached in to take her right hand, ostensibly a gentlemanly gesture to help her get out, but actually imposing a painful and firm grip to pull her out. She meekly climbed out of the car, as gracefully as she could. The doorman hardly glanced down at her as she got out, and straightened up.

Outside the door of the restaurant, a row of potential patrons were in-line, waiting to get in. The man, of course, did not have to wait, but was ushered straight into the crowded restaurant. Selina's entrance drew much attention from the other patrons, but they too seemed not to notice that she was actually bound under her clothes. She and the man was efficiently ushered to a small room, where they could dine privately.

Selina was rather impressed by the room. It was on a small balcony jutting out into a bay, filled with luxurious yachts. On the opposite shore of the bay, she saw the lights of a strange city, including commercial skyscrapers rising high above the bay, shining brightly in the gathering darkness of the evening.

"Sit." the man ordered, pointing to a chair set next to a candle-lit table opposite another empty chair. Selina marched over to the chair, and lowered her butt onto the cushion. She winced as her buttocks were still raw from the punishment she had received, not to mention the way the dildo and butt-plug were pushed deep into her. The man now took the other seat and picked up a bell, and rung it.

Immediately, the door opened and waiters came in with covered dishes, which they set before the man and Selina.

"I hope you will forgive me darling, but I ordered beforehand. I'm sure you will find the dishes to your liking." the man said ironically. The waiters raised the covers to uncover delicious smelling tomato soup.

The waiters turned and left, closing the door behind them. The man now stood up and went around to where Selina was seated. He picked up the bowl of soup and placed it on the floor, next to her.

"We may be at a fancy restaurant, but slaves still eat from the floor." the man said, "Get on your hands and knees."

Selina hesitated for a moment, then she recalled her punishment, and she slid down out of the chair onto her hands and legs. Her skirt and shawl, as well as the ribbons binding her, restricted her movements into sinuous twists and turns until she was just before the soup. The man now pulled out the ribbon from between her jaws and pulled out the panty from inside her mouth.

Selina was about to dip her head in when the man stopped her.

"Aren't you forgetting something, slave?" the man asked, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his member. He grabbed Selina's lower jaw and pulled her face to his crotch as he stood astride the bowl of soup. She knew what was expected of her, and she slipped her lips around his hot swollen penis. She worked her mouth expertly on his manhood, working her head back and forth as she wrapped her tongue against the blunt tip. She worked until the man moaned and was about to ejaculate. He pushed her head off his manhood, and shot his sperm out from his manhood into the soup below him. He sighed, then zipped himself up, and stood back.

"Now drink your soup, slave, and clean up every drop."

Selina said nothing, but bent down, and began to drink the soup with her tongue. It had cooled somewhat, allowing her to lap it up like a cat from a feeding bowl. The taste of the spices and tomato was so strong that she did not detect any hint of the sperm mixed into the soup. Soon, she managed to finish the soup.

"Good. Now back onto your seat." the man ordered, picking up the dish and placing it on the table. He wiped her mouth with the napkin, then placed the satin panties back in the orifice, before placing the ribbon across her jaws again, arranging the hair of the wig once more to hide the fact that she was gagged.

The man rang the bell again, and the waiters now returned. If they thought it was funny Selina did not use her soup spoon, they did not say anything as they cleared the dishes. The main course was next, and the man had ordered beef steak for Selina, cooked rare. They looked almost like raw meat to the clandestinely bound woman, but, of course, she could not protest. The man had ordered fish for himself.

Once the waiters were gone, the man had once more placed the dish on the floor. Selina was once more ordered onto the floor, and the panty gag removed from her mouth. Then, the skirt was stripped from her waist and her thong panties removed. The crotch strap of her chastity belt was unlocked and pulled out, and her dildo taken out.

"You may eat now." the man said as he unzipped his pants once more.

The man has the stamina of a bull, Selina thought as she raised her naked butt and planted her face down on the stake. She bit into it, and swung the meat in her mouth in an effort to bite a bit off. It tasted bloody in her mouth, but the sauce was actually exquisite. Then, as she chewed on the meat, she felt the man enter her cunt. She moaned and lifted her head up, sauce dripping from the sides of her mouth.

"Eat!" the man ordered as he began to pump her. Selina obeyed, and bit down on her steak again. As he continued to fuck her, she took bite after bite until the steak was all gone. Then, he ejaculated a third time that night. He moaned and sat back in his chair, exhausted but happy.

"My, my, you're a very good fuck, slut." the man said, looking down at the kneeling woman before him, "Give me a moment to recover. Go and stand against the railing of the balcony, and bend over to display your pussy."

Selina did as she was told, climbing up to her feet in difficulty with the black ribbon still binding her upper thighs together. She walked over to the railing, and bent over it. Below her, the black waters of the bay rippled as she looked over. Glancing to either side, she saw that there was no one that would be able to look into the balcony to see the sexual humiliation she was being subject to.

Then a thought struck Selina. Would she dare? The drop seemed almost fatal, and yet, the thought of being subject for the rest of her life to sexual slavery appalled her. She would rather die than be subject to such an existence. If she die, she would rather die from trying to escape, then when she was no longer of use to her slavers.

Selina leaned over, swung her legs over the railings, and allowed herself to drop over the railing, feet first. Behind her, she heard the scrape of the legs of a chair on the floor as the man got up. He was too late as she disappeared over the railing and she plunged towards the water below. The water came up with amazing speed, and her feet pierced through the surface, to be followed by the rest of her body. Her wig was torn off as water enveloped her head. She continued plunging into the wet darkness, until her momentum stopped, and she began to float upwards. She kicked her legs as best as she could. Although they were still hobbled, she managed to get some momentum going, and she drove herself out of the surface.

Bound as she was, Selina could not swim normally, but she leaned her body forward, as if she was snorkeling, and used the limited freedom of her legs to propel her forward, towards the yachts, and away from the shoreline behind her, over which the restaurant had hung. She tried to swim as fast as she could.

Then, Selina heard the sound of a motor behind her. Twisting her head around, she saw that it was a boat, speeding towards her. Some kind soul had probably seen her drop into the water, and was coming to rescue her. As the boat came up to her, a light shone onto her wet head bobbing in the water. Then the boat was next to her, and to her shock, a noose was dropped over her head, and then tightened. The noose was connected to a pole, and she was fished into the boat by strong arms. As she landed like a fish on the inside of the boat, more strong arms grabbed her. A pair of hands tore off her wig and took out the ribbon and the panty gag in her mouth, but these were immediately replaced by a proper ball-gag which propped her mouth wide open. Her wrists were released from the clutch bag, but immediately pulled behind her back and bound together with rope. Her ankles were placed against each other next, and bound with rope as well. Then the boat was turned around, and sped away from the lights. With a sinking heart, she realized that she had been very swiftly recaptured and her attempt at escape had been all too brief.

The boat had brought Selina back to shore at a secluded spot far away from the bay. The man was already waiting as she was carried onto the wooden pier by the strong arms of her captors. As she stood dripping wet on the wood, the man growled down at her.

"It was fortunate that I have put in place contingencies against such an attempt. I see that I have made a mistake. I should not have reduced your bondage. You're not as submissive as you seem. I will not make that mistake again.

Selina had been carried by her arms by two sailors to the limousine that was waiting, but instead of the passenger seat, she had been dumped into the boot of the limousine. Another piece of rope was now used to tie her ankles to her wrists. The length was mercilessly short, tucking her bound hands almost directly under her feet, forcing her torso into a painful arch. Then the boot of the car was slammed shut, and the limousine was driven off. Suddenly, as she struggled with her bonds, the dildo and the butt-plug still inserted into her sprung to life, sending powerful vibrations up her lower regions, causing her to scream into her gag.

When the limousine finally stopped, Selina had orgased twice, adding her own juice to the moisture of the water of the bay. She was pulled out of the boot, still hog-tied, and placed upright on her knees, supported by two pairs of strong arms. She saw that she had not been brought back to the warehouse. Instead, she was in garage behind a dilapidated one-storied building surrounded by a forest.

Selina was dragged into the building through an open door. She saw discarded and dusty machinery all over the floor of a large room, and guessed that it was some sort of abandoned factory. The man continued forward, leading her captors and their reluctant cargo deeper into the building, until they came to a spot where there were no machineries. Instead, there were about a dozen round iron covers on the floor. Above them, an ancient crane hung from an railing mounted along an iron beam, with a chain dangling down with a stout snap-hook at one end.

The man made a hand signal, and the strong hands holding Selina released her, dropping her back onto the floor. She glanced up with hatred at the man as he walked over to her ruthlessly hogtied form.

"We have our own way of dealing with recalcitrant, of course," the man said, "As with the best prisons, we have a system of solitary confinement. But, of course, we have our own unique twist to it."

As the man spoke, two of his men stepped forward and bent down over an iron cover. They unlocked a huge padlock closing it, and swung it open by its hinges to reveal a dark cavity beneath it. The strong smell of rubber entered her nose. There was a whine above them as a motor was started, and then the crane began to swing over to a spot above the cavity. The hook began to lower towards the cavity until it passed the brim. The men reached in and moved the hook, sliding it until there was soft click. Then one of them pointed his thumb up, at which point, the chain suspending the hook began to retract up.

Selina's eyes widened as she saw a black bundle being extracted out from the hole in the ground. It was humanoid in form. Indeed, it was feminine in form, as two bulges on its front indicated the sex of the form. Otherwise, there was no distinguishing features on the black rubbery surface of what can only be described as a body bag, albeit one that adhered very tightly to the form of its occupant. The bag had beefy steel D-rings bolted to its shoulders, on either side of the shrouded head of its occupant, and a short chain linked these two rings. The hook had been fitted through the center link of this chain to extract the body until its bottom was clear of the hold.

The crane's arm was now turned, and the body bag swung around to where the man and Selina were. She looked up and saw the bound form pressing against the latex covering it. She was obviously a very shapely woman, with large breasts and buttocks, but slender waist and limbs. Her arms had been pulled cruelly together behind her back, forcing her body into a forward arch which pressed forward her chest, and pushed back her butt.

The man reached up now over the head of the bound form, and grasped a heavy zipper. As the zipper came down the front of the bag around its occupants head, it parted. The man pulled it down until the zipper was at the throat, then pulled back the body-bag to reveal a head underneath.

Selina saw that the captive had long blonde hair, but it was difficult to tell much beyond that. Her eyes had been covered by a set of large plastic goggles with rubber padding. It had large plastic cups where the lenses should be, with wires emerging from the front of the cups. It reminded Selina more of night vision goggles. And like NVGs, the goggles were kept in place around her head with a thick leather strap over the top of her head, and another strap around the sides and back of her head. Her ears were covered with ear-muffs, from which more wires emerged. Her nostrils had thin air hoses inserted into them, held in place by rubber plugs, while the tubes twisted around her neck to the back of her head. Finally, her mouth was entirely concealed by a thick rubber panel, held in place by rubber straps that were secured round her head to behind her neck. A rubber hose emerged from the front of the panel and disappeared down into the body-bag. Looking down, Selina saw that the hose would emerge beneath the bag, together with the wires. The hose and wires led back to the hole and disappeared into it.

The man reached up and pulled up the goggles from the blonde's eyes. Selina looked up into a pair of beautiful cobalt blue eyes, but there was something wrong with them. They looked completely lifeless, as if their owner was dead already, and yet, she clearly was not. No, what they lacked was the independent spark of free-will. Selina shuddered involuntarily.

The man pulled the goggles back over the blonde's eyes, and zipped up the bag again. The bag was now swung back over the opening and lowered into the hole. As it disappeared into the hole, the other men reached in and unhooked the bag, and closed the lid over the poor woman.

Selina looked up at the man, fear in her eyes now. The man smiled with contempt and made a signal. She was grabbed by her arms once more and pulled onto her knees. The rope lashing her wrists to her ankles were cut, and she was allowed to stand on her feet.

"Cut those fancy clothes off her. She doesn't deserve them." the man ordered. One of his men stepped forward and opened a folding knife. He cut through the black satin ribbons binding her arms and legs first, before setting to work, attacking the corset and the thong. Soon, their shredded remnants fell to the floor, leaving Selina in only her transparent chastity belt and her slingback high heels. These were soon stripped from her as well, with her dildo and butt-plug being pulled out unceremoniously after she was bent over. Then, totally naked accept for her ball-gag and rope binding her wrists and ankles, she was dragged over to an iron pillar rising high upwards near to where the hatches were. Here, she saw that an old iron framed bed had been turned up to rest on its head. The springs had been removed, leaving only the frame. She was dragged up to the bed. Steel manacles had already been fitted to the corners of the bed. Her right ankle was immediately secured to one corner of the bed-frame, before the rope was cut, and her left ankle pulled across to the corner opposite the first. Then the rope binding her wrists were cut, and her struggling arms wrestled up to the two upper corners, each of her wrists being secured to one of the corner such that her naked body was now spread-eagled defenselessly. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle, tugging at the manacles binding her.

Selina's slaver now came up to her, looking up at her bound form, her juggling breasts as she writhed and struggled, and her pert buttocks behind her.

"It'll really be a pity to put you in that hole for years. I really would like to fuck you a lot more, but you're too much of a firecracker at the moment. At the end of your confinement, you will become a lot more compliable. Believe me."

Selina opened her eyes wide in horror at the man's speech. Years! They were going to put her in a dark hole for years! The thought struck her with dread.

"Of course, there's no guarantee that your mind will survive," the man said, "You'll be deprived of any sound, sight, smell, or taste. Your skin will be totally covered, and you will be surrounded by water. Total sensory deprivation."

Selina screamed her defiance into her ball-gag, but all she managed was to propel some of her drool his way.

"Oh yes, it would have been a lot more enjoyable to break you the usual way," the man said, smiling, "But at least I will have all the hours of videos I have of you taken over the past few weeks."

One of the other men pushed a cart into view. Selina's slaver turned at the sound, and smiled. A pile of latex garment had been placed on it, and he picked up the topmost piece. Selina looked down to see a helmet of black molded rubber. It resembled the latex cowl that she wore when she was captured the first time, but this one had larger eyeholes, and had an opening for the lower part of her face, from her nose down to her chin.

"I had wanted you to put this on when we got back. You see, you could have become Catwoman again … all right, maybe not Catwoman, but perhaps Catwhore. You would have been my little kitty cat slave pet. I had thought that stripping you of your identity as Catwoman, reducing you to the whore Selina again, and then allowing you to take back part by part of your identity as Catwoman, under my permission and control, of course, will make you the perfect sex slave slash thief, to be used as I see fit, to steal my competitors' secret. But, alas, I see that that is no longer possible. Selina and Catwoman are indistinguishable. To break Selina, it is Catwoman that must be utterly controlled, totally bound, and completely brainwashed."

The man took the cowl and stepped up to where Selina was bound. Her head was seized by two sets of powerful hands, preventing her from moving her head away as the man slipped the thick rubber cowl over her head through the opening at its bottom, and pulled it down her head. It was a difficult fit, but the man was relentless as he pulled the stiff rubber over her head. As it slipped down her head, her chin emerged from the top of the lower opening on its front and the eyeholes came to rest around her eyes. The neck of the helmet snapped into place around her throat, holding the cowl in place. The visage of Catwoman once more stared down with hatred at the man, struggling with her manacles.

"It is Catwoman who must be reduced to the status of being a sex slave, a total nympho that is dependent on me to fulfill her addiction. This will be a control more powerful, and less debilitating than, a heroin habit." The man explained as he picked up the second garment.

Catwoman looked down and saw that he was holding a rubber corset, rather liked the one that had been placed on her before, but closed in the rear by a heavy metal zipper, rather than the fasteners. It also had actual boning, which actually looked severe in the way the bones bowed inwards. His men took either end of the corset, and now placed them around her waist. She found that unlike the previous rubber corset, the front of this one rose up all the way to cover her breasts. As it was wrapped around her flank, they crushed her heavy breasts together to form a deep cleavage. She felt the ends mated up behind her, and then she felt the open ends of zip being mated up, and the zipper being pulled up her back. The bones of the corset dug into her waist, clinching it in.

The man turned and picked up a third piece of garment. It was like the chastity belt that had been placed on Catwoman earlier in the evening, but made of heavy duty black rubber. It also had three holes fitted to it, stacked one above the other along the crotch strap. The first hole was actually quite tiny, and she could not fathom its use. The next two, however, were obviously meant to be fitted with a dildo and an anal-plug. The chastity belt was now placed around her waist, and the crotch strap pulled up over her vulva, with the three ends being locked in place behind her back, imprisoning her loins.

Next, the man did something curious. He picked up a hooked needle, with a thick white thread placed through its hole. He stepped up to Catwoman, and pierced the hem of the corset with the needle. Then, to her surprised, he began to sew the hem of the corset and the top of the chastity belt together. He worked around her until the belt was attached to the corset by a series of crude white stitches around her waist.

The man now stepped back to the cart, and picked up two long pieces of rubber. Two of his men took one of the pieces and wrapped it around Catwoman's stretched right leg. They then pressed the long sides of the pieces together over the outside of her thighs. The man took his needle and thread again, and set to work. Soon, the latex piece was sewn together over her leg, cladding it like a legging, with white stitches down the outside. This was repeated with her left leg with the other piece. Then the man sewed the top of the leggings to the hem of the chastity belt, down the front from her hips down to her crotch, then up between the cheeks of her buttocks, back to her hips again, joining the leggings to her chastity belt.

It occurred to Catwoman then that a thick rubber costume was being sewn to her body as she was bound spread-eagled to the bed frame. The next item was a long piece that was stretched across her chest. Three panels rose from the long piece up. The center panel had a semi-circular scoop in front, while the two end panels had shallower quarter scoops. The hem of this piece was sewn to the top of her corset. Then the center panel was pulled up to the neck of her cowl, and sewn into place. The back of the piece of rubber were now mated up behind her and sewn together, before the top was sewn to the back of the neck of her helmet.

Only Catwoman's arms were now uncovered. This situation was soon remedied by additional rubber strips being applied around her arms, and sewn in place to form sleeves. Then the man sewed the ends of the sleeves to the top of the rest of the costume around her arm sockets, completing a catsuit around her bound body.

The man now gave another command. Catwoman's right knee was now raised and forced against the side of the bed frame, and a rope used to bind it in place. Then, the manacle around her right ankle was released. Her right lower leg was now pulled back. Another man now took a boot off the top of the cart and went around her back. Glancing down, she saw that it was a black PVC boot, but it lacked any toes. Instead, it pointed straight down. She realized that it was a ballet boot, which would force her foot into a permanent ballet en pointe posture. She could not resist as the boot was placed around her foot, forcing her to point her toes back as it was being laced up her shin until the top of the boot closed around her knees. When the man behind her released her foot, she found that she could not manipulate it at all, as the top of the boots were fitted with shanks around her ankles, making any movement impossible. The men set to work on her right leg now, and soon, her left foot was similarly booted and forced into a torturous point. As her knees were released and her ankles once again secured, her calve muscles immediately complained at the load imposed on them, but there was nothing she could do.

The men now set to work on Catwoman's hands. First her right hand was released and her arm pulled back to render any attempt as resistance futile. The men took a fingerless rubber glove, and placed it around her right arm. Her hand was pressed into the bulb at the end of the glove, her fingers being forced into a useless clenched fist by the internal contour of the bulb as the glove was pulled up her arm. Then, the long opening along the glove was sewn shut, and for added security, the top of the glove was also sewn directly to the sleeve of the costume. Her right wrist was then manacled again. When this was done, her left arm was similarly gloved.

Catwoman now looked like some sort of rag door someone had crudely sewn together, with white stitches criss-crossing her shapely body. The glossy black rubber stretched over her every curve, hugging them closely and adding luster to their rounded shape. She made an enticing figure, spread-eagled as she was.

Catwoman's slaver now reached up with a knife. He cut off the leather strap still holding her rubber ball-gag in her mouth, and pulled the instrument of silence out from under the rubber of her cowl.

"Fuck you!" Catwoman cursed vehemently.

"Curse all you like, Catwoman," the man said airily, "Soon you will not be able to speak for years."

One of his men had pushed away the first cart, and he returned with another cart. The man picked up one of the items and showed it to Catwoman. It consisted of a thick rubber panel of the sort that she had seen placed on the other woman. Its inside had a thick rubber penis secured to it. It had a realistic slit on its front, just like a real penis. On the other side of the panel, a long rubber hose emerged and dropped down to the floor. The man took the ends of the rubber straps secured to the sides of the panel, and stepped up to Catwoman with it. One of his men grabbed her jaws and pried it open, allowing the man to slip the rubber penis between her resisting jaws. Then, he pulled the straps behind the back of her neck, and with a click, he locked the ends together behind her. This left the hose dangling down the front of the captive's body to the floor.

The man now picked up two instruments that were intimately familiar to Catwoman. The dildo was unremarkable, except for its girth and length. After it was lubricated, it was soon installed in Catwoman's cunt. As it was slid and screwed into place, she threw her head back at the sensation, and moaned. Then, the man picked up the anal plug.

She saw that there was something different. The tip of the cone had been removed. Instead, there was a small recess at the tip, forming a cavity like an egg-cup. In the center of this cavity, there was a large hole. At the bottom of the flanged base of this plug, a long black rubber tube came out and dangled on the floor. The plug had been lubricated too, and it entered her slack sphincter with little difficulty, in spite of its truncated tip. It slid into place, and like the dildo, its base was screwed into the corresponding thread on the inside of the rear hole on the crotch piece of her chastity belt, eliciting gagged moans from Catwoman.

The man now took up a piece of equipment Catwoman had never seen before. It looked almost like a hypodermic needle, except that it did not have a sharp end, and was thicker. It too had a screwed base, but had a thin rubber tube running out from its bottom. The man walked up to her, and bent down.

To Catwoman's horror, she realized that she had one more lower orifice left that had not been plugged. It was her urethra. The sensation as it was pushed up her narrow tube was almost excruciating, and she could only shake her head in protest, flinging the rubber tube attached to her mouth from side to side.

"Stop that!" the man ordered, slapping her head across her right cheek, knocking Catwoman's head to one side. Then he stepped back, and picked up a rubber nose clip of the same sort that had been placed on the other unfortunate woman. The two thin hoses had already been connected to the plugs on the clip, and the man now shoved these into Catwoman's nostrils, plugging them. She was now forced to breathe through the long tubes dangling down from her nose. The tension of the clip itself was like a clothes peg, pressing in her nose to keep the plugs in place.

When this was done, Catwoman was finally released from the bedframe. She fell onto her hands and knees. Although she was now unsecured, there was no way she could fight back. Her hands were encased uselessly in rubber bulbs, while her feet were stringently forced into points, preventing her from rising to her feet. Rubber hoses emerged from every orifices in her body, with the exception of her ears, dangling about her as she crawled futilely, trying to get away from her captors, and the cruel fate awaiting her. She was easily caught, and forced into a kneeling position. Her arms were now pulled back behind her. She felt a long piece of rope being pulled over her neck, and pulled down under her arms, only to be twisted back up around her upper-arms. The men whipped the ends of the rope over and over again over her arms, working their way down from her arm pits down to her elbows, forcing them cruelly together, before working their way down, stopping only when her wrists had been bound together. She could now no longer separate her arms, and her torso had been forced into the cruel arch she had seen in the other woman, her chest pushed forward, and her butt tilted back.

Catwoman was now pushed onto her side. Another rope was applied to her, this time doubled. The looped end was belted around her corseted waist, and the lines pulled down to her crotch. But these lines were not pulled back to form a crotch rope, but instead, separated before being pulled around her hips down and back to behind her buttocks. The lines were then whipped together, again and again, down her long thighs, until her knees were forced together. The men continued to work their way down until her lower legs, like her long thighs, had disappeared under a dense matrix of rope. The men stopped only when her ankles had been tied together.

Catwoman could now only wriggle helplessly at the feet of the men. She had been very thoroughly bound indeed. Her hands and feet had already been rendered useless to her in the bulbs and ballet boots. Now her arms and her legs had been lashed tightly together.

As if this was not enough, the men now picked up an arm sheath and slipped it over her bound arms. The conical rubber garment slipped up her entire arm until the top reached her armpits. Then the shoulder straps attached to its top was thrown over her shoulders, and crossed over her chest, and pulled down under her arms, back to the arm sheath, where they were secured by locks to the sides. The laces on the back of the sheath were then tightened to constrict the sheath around her rope bound arms. A rubber hobble skirt was next, belted around her waist and pulled down her rope-bound legs. The skirt was pulled around her legs, and then laced up, adding its own imposition to her bound legs. Her latex covered butt was left uncovered by the skirt, and the hoses plugged into her nether regions emerged here to spread out on the floor next to the writhing Catwoman.

The men now took one last piece of rubber item, and came up to Catwoman. With a chill, she saw that it was the body-bag, of the same design that had been used to contain the other woman. It looked like a shroud to her as its front was unzipped. One of the men now scooped her up, and placed her helplessly in its confines. The tubes emerging from her head were now pulled down her back, and placed together, before being pulled down to her butt. Here, they joined the tubes emerging from her crotch. These were then coiled around her legs, and pulled out through a rubber seal at the bottom of the bag. Then the bag was zipped up. As the zip was pulled up her bound and hobbled leg, it added its own grip to her lower limbs, as the tough rubber constricted around them. The body bag continued to grip more and more of her body as the zip moved up, and soon her arms were pressed tightly against her back as the zip came up to her neck.

Only Catwoman's head remained uncovered. She writhed helplessly in her layers of bondage, completely helpless and dreading her fate. A short length of chain was now attached to the D-rings on the shoulders of the body-bag. Then the crane was swung into place above her, and the hook lowered. When she was hooked up, the chain retracted, and she was raised bodily up into an upright position, swinging lightly from her suspension. One of the men now reached into an open hole near her, and pulled out a series of hoses. He then proceeded to mate up the hoses plugged into Catwoman with the corresponding hose, using the markings on the hoses to make sure he connected the right ones up.

"Take a good look at the world, Catwoman. You will not see it for the next few years." The man said.

Catwoman's eyes opened wide in terror. She shook her head in protest.

"MMMMMMPHHHH! MMMMMPPHHHH!" Catwoman screamed, but there was no sign of sympathy from any of her captors. One of them now placed the goggles over her eyes, plunging her into darkness. As she struggled, she felt the earmuffs placed on her head, and then, the body-bag was zip shut over her head, encasing it with rubber.

The silence and darkness was awful. Catwoman felt something inside of her snap, and she started to scream and scream in terror. But this was not to be the end of her ordeal. She felt herself being swung aside now, and then slowly, she was lowered. Her sideway swinging was arrested now as she bumped into the walls of the hole she had been lowered into. After a brief pause, she began to feel pressure increasing on her feet, then her lower legs, up towards her torso. She realized the hole is now being flooded with water. When the water reached up over her head, she felt herself floating. Then, the hook was removed from the top of her head, and she slipped deeper into the hole. Finally, with a damning clang, the cover was closed over her watery prison.

At this point, Catwoman screamed and screamed and screamed.

Catwoman did not know how long she was kept in the total sensory deprivation. It felt like an eternity. She was in her own dark, silent hell. Then, light began to flicker before her eyes. She realized that the goggles strapped to her eyes contained small screens. The light flickered, and then became coherent pictures.

At first, Catwoman could not comprehend what she was seeing. Then she realized that she was looking at a square of latex covered body. The image zoomed back now, and she realized with a start that it was her! She was in her original black latex catsuit, and she was back in the study of the man, bound helplessly. Then, as she walked she saw the crotch of her catsuit being cut open, and her panties cut off. Then, the man raped her. Over her ears, tiny speakers in her ears played back the sounds of her rape, with every gagged moan that had been recorded played back to her in high definition audio. In addition, almost inaudibly, a voice whispered, "You are being fucked by your Master, whom you must obey. You are being fucked by your Master, whom you must obey."

At this point, the dildo and butt-plug inserted into her came alive, vibrating in pulses. Catwoman felt herself being shaken to the core by the power of the pulses. She writhed in her body-bag, moaning into her gag. She felt her body building powerfully towards an orgasm, then suddenly, she moan and shook as she cummed. Then, the scream went blank again, plunging her once more into darkness.

Catwoman endured the sensory deprivation for another eternity, before she realized that something was trickling into her mouth. A fluid was coming out through the slit in the penis gag in her mouth. Eagerly, she began to suck on the penis, as if she was giving the rubber member a blow job. The harder she worked, the more juice would come out, which she swallowed eagerly. She fed and fed, engorging herself on the fluid which tasted very closely like semen. She felt until her stomach was extended, pushing against the confines of the corset and the body-bag. Then, her goggles and earmuffs came to life again, this time playing a scene from inside her own apartment, when she had been captured the second time. She was forced to watch herself forced to put on her purple costume and then being put into bondage. Once again, the dildo and butt-plug came to life, rocking her nether regions, and forcing her into an orgasm. Then, there was silence and darkness once more.

This was repeated several times. Catwoman would be fed. Then she would be forced to watch an episode from her captivity and sexual slavery, while being compelled into an orgasm. Otherwise, she had only total sensory deprivation to accompany her imprisonment.

Catwoman soon realized that her stomach was becoming bloated and her bladder was full. She suddenly understood why her urethra had been plugged. When she released her bladder, she felt her warm urine drain out of her through the urethral plug, and out through the tube attached to it. When she needed to shit, the butt-plug performed a similar function. Her shit would emerge into her rectum, to be immediately dropped into the cavity at the tip of the plug. There was the sound of vacuum sucking next, and she guessed that the shit was sucked out from inside of her.

It was all very efficient. Catwoman was being fed, and the refuse removed from inside her body, all while she was tightly bound up in her rubber prison. This understanding only added to her despair at the totality of incarceration she had been placed in, where even such basic bodily functions were taken away from her. She was to all intents and purpose, nothing more than an object, part of a machine.

As her imprisonment stretched, such coherent thoughts became more and more rare in Catwoman's mind. Her grip on reality began to slip as her starving mind, deprived of all other senses, and permitted only the images of her own debasement and ravishment, came to be wrapped around those visuals and sounds. Her orgasms began to dominate her life, such as it was, these being the only intense emotions and sensations permitted to her in her private rubber hell.

Catwoman watched her ordeals, from being marked like a lifestock, to her ordeals in the cage, to her treadmill training, to her gang-rapes by the guards, were all shown to her, to be accompanied invariably by enforced orgasms. With her mind now completely enthralled by these images, she soon craved for them, to see her own sufferings, to see herself being used as a sex slave. To her mind, they were becoming the core of her existence.

With time, Catwoman did not even need the powerful ministrations of the dildo and buttplug. Once the images flickered on, she began to get horny. When the dildo and plug came on, she achieved orgasm quickly. Her mind now looked forward constantly to the next time. She was like an addict, craving her next hit. Yet with each hit, she craved even more desperately for the next one.

All thoughts of the world outside Catwoman's prison receded from her mind. She had an awareness of her identity as Catwoman still, but now it was being twisted and perverted inside her own mind. Her costume now became a fetishistic symbol of her enslavement. She was no longer the infamous thief. She was a sex slave, and her Catwoman identity was at the core of that slavery. Catwoman was nothing more than a sex toy for her Master. It was only right that she was to be abused and used as he saw fit.

Catwoman no longer cared about how long she had spent in the prison. She was almost unconscious of the fact that she was being hoisted up when her Master finally returned. When her body bag was opened and her goggle ripped off, she almost cried in despair, so integrated had her psyche been to the rubbery prison. Then her eyes fell on the man standing before her, and her eyes lit up with licentious pleasure. It was her Master.

Catwoman had become no more than a sex slave


	2. Breaking Wonder Woman

Breaking Wonder Woman

The glitzy night lights of Las Vegas reflected off the shiny black latex fabric that completely covered the figure that clung precariously to the side of the building. Wedged into a crack along the seam between two sides of thirty-storey hotel, sides covered completely with glass as reflective as the fabric on the figure, it made its way steadily up, using a pipe running down seam to help it scale up to the top of the building.

Anyone who could see the figure would realise that it belonged to a woman, with the very narrow waist, the rounded hips and the bubble-like buttocks that hung out into the air as the figure climbed. As the figure turned to throw one of her long slender arms up to grip the pipe, her torso swung to one side to reveal a pair of semi-spheres on her chest, just above her waist, which seemed impossibly large for even a well-endowed woman. The observer would probably wonder how the woman could climb with such agility and confidence with such a large pair of breasts.

The figure got to the top of the building now. She reached over the railing and pulled herself up and over it, suspending over empty air for a second as she hauled herself in. She squatted for a moment as she paused to catch her breath, to make herself as small a silhouette as possible as she scanned the empty deck of the penthouse suite of the hotel. Her entire head was clad in latex as well, leaving only a pair of eyeholes, through which a pair of green eyes looked out. The heavy black lining, the thick black mascara and the dark blue eye shadows all served to make the eyes looked large, almost cat-like, which complimented the pair of cat-like 'ears' sticking out of the top of her head. Nothing else of her face was visible, although there was a pair of grommets under her nose that allowed her to breathe more easily.

The figure stood up now. She crept on all fours towards the sliding doors, like an oversized cat, allowing her to move quite silently, even though she was wearing a pair of high-heeled boots of black glossy PVC. Again, an observer would wonder how she managed the climb up the building in the impractical footwear. Her buttocks swung behind her sinuously as she moved towards the doors. At the doors, she stretched her body forward for a moment, lowering her hips down to the ground as she placed her face against the glass. Watching and listening for a moment, she ascertained that there was no one in the living room behind the doors. Reaching up, she tested the doors. They slid apart easily. Clearly no one was expecting someone to enter through that way.

The figure crawled into the living room and slid the doors shut again. She drew her body up into a crotch, with her hands resting on the floor, her arms straight between her squatting legs. She heard the sound of someone showering. Stretching her body out onto all fours again, she crawled towards the sleeping room past the Luxe furniture pieces of the living room. The bedroom door was once again unlocked, and she opened it easily, and slipped in.

The sound of showering was now much louder. The occupant was clearly in the attached bathroom. The figure looked around the room, and immediately saw what she had come for. It was a coil of rope that hung from the back of a chair in front of the dressing table. The rope seemed to shine even in the darkness of the bedroom. The figure crawled towards the chair. She glanced sideways at a rack next to the chair, from which a costume hung. It was a strap-less satin garment, so it hung by a pair of ribbons sawn to the inside. The bustier top was red and its top edge was trimmed with gold in the form of two large stylized 'W's, one on top of the other, the stretched out to resemble an eagle with outstretched wings. The bottom piece of the costume was blue with white stars emblazoned on it. It had high leg holes which reached up to the hips of the costume, ending just below the bustier. A gold tiara with a red star as well as a golden belt hung from the rack next to the costume. A pair of red PVC boots, trimmed with white on top, with heels about three-inches high was in front of the rack. Finally, a pair of silvery gauntlets laid on top of the dressing table next to the rack.

The figure ignored the costume and reached for the rope. Just as her latex gloved hand touched it, the lights of the room were turned on. The figure's head snapped around and she saw a tall – indeed, Amazonian- woman standing in the doorway into the bathroom. Her body was dripping wet and uncovered, without even a towel to shield her modesty. Her limbs were long but muscular, not quite as over-pumped as bodybuilders', but certainly powerful like that of a world-class athlete.

The woman had broad-shoulders as well, which added to the sense of power as one looked at her. She had a lengthy torso under those shoulders, which curved in at the trim waist, but flared out again over her wide hips, forming a perfect hour glass figure. Her breasts were large but hung firmly high up on her chest, proudly erect, with her light brown nipples visibly enlarging and hardening in the cool air of the room. The woman's raven-black hair was curly and long, which framed her beautiful face. The face was Grecian in features, with high cheekbones and large dark brown eyes, ending with a strong chin underneath full-bodied lips.

It did not take Sherlock Homes to guess that this was Wonder Woman.

For a moment, the eyes of the two women met.

"Catwoman!" Wonder Woman exclaimed.

The latex clad burglar did not say anything. She bolted up straight and grabbed the lasso. She turned and fled through the bedroom door. Wonder Woman ran after her, her powerful limbs powering after the latex figure. As she ran into the living room, she saw that Catwoman had already gone through the open sliding doors and onto the deck. She turned for a moment to look back, then she leapt over the railing. The naked woman ran up to the railing, her breasts juggling on her chest, and looked over, expecting to see Catwoman falling to her death. Instead, she saw that the burglar had landed on a stack of empty cardboard boxes piled neatly on a rooftop jutting out from the hotel wall a few floors below. She was already up, with the golden lasso coiled across her body over her left shoulder. She reached a taut line tied to the railing on the edge of the roof, a line which stretched all the way down to the road. She grabbed a pair of handle bars fitted to a karabiner hooked over the line, and even as Wonder Woman watched in anger, she stepped off the roof and zipped down the line. As she landed on a street, a black van pulled up and its rear doors opened. Catwoman stepped into the van and it sped off.

Wonder Woman was about to launch herself after the woman, but stopped herself. She looked down, remembering that she was stark naked. She turned and ran into the suite again. She got into the bedroom, and tore the costume off its ribbon suspenders. She unzipped the back of the satin costume, and pulled the garment on. It slid smoothly up her body until the blue bottom clad her buttocks and crotch snugly. As she pulled the zip up, the bustier gathered around her torso, hugging her hips as the front came up and back to fit over her full breasts. The zip came to a stop just below the level of her shoulder blades, and she reached out for the metal belt. Throwing it around her waist, she pulled their ends together and held them in place using the set of hooks and grommets fitted to them. The belt came to rest low over her hips, neatly covering the seam between her red bustier and blue bottom. Wonder Woman bent down and slipped on the pair of boots, zipping them up so that their tops reached her knees. Then she stood up and picked up the pair of gauntlets, and slipped them around her lower arms through the slits on their backs. Closing them around her wrists, they fitted snugly as she flexed arms. Then she turned and ran out of the suite again.

With a leap, Wonder Woman jumped into the air and flew high into the night sky. She looked in the direction where she last saw the van sped away, and it did not take long for her to spot the black vehicle as it turned into another street. She flew after the van. By the time she caught up with it, it was parked in an alley next to a warehouse.

Sensing a trap, Wonder Woman landed warily next to the van. Its doors were open, and it was empty. She turned to the warehouse and approached the door carefully. It was locked, and she was wary that it might have been booby-trapped. Glancing up, she noticed a row of windows high up on the wall. She flew up to the windows and glanced in.

The interior was dark, except for a spot in the centre which was lit by some lights suspended from the roof, but Wonder Woman could not see anything beyond the rows and rows of shelves packed with boxes. She flew up onto the roof, landing lightly on the gravel-covered roof. She crept towards the skylight in the centre of the roof, and looked in.

Wonder Woman gasped at what she saw. In the centre of the warehouse was a space empty of shelves. Instead, there was a rack resting on the floor at an angle. The rack was constructed from heavy wooden beams and planks, and had an almost medieval appearance to it. It was fitted with heavy steel rings at each of its four corners. And spread-eagled tautly on the rack, with her limbs bound by ropes to the rings, was a woman.

"Batgirl!" Wonder Woman muttered under her breath. Batgirl had been missing for almost three months now, and Wonder Woman knew that Batman had been worried sick looking for her. In spite of his detective skills, he had not been able to find her. It seemed as if the earth had opened up and swallowed her whole.

Batgirl was dressed only in the remnants of her costume. The black PVC fabric of the costume had been torn and cut in many places, particularly around her torso, such that there was almost nothing covering her nubile breasts and crotch. Her bat-eared cowl was still in place, but its neck had been pulled up above her nose to gather in a band over her eyes, forming a blindfold. In her mouth was a large black rubber ball, held in place by a thick leather strap threaded through its centre and encircling her cheeks and neck. She still had her yellow boots but her yellow gloves had been stripped away, as was her utility belt.

Wonder Woman could see that Batgirl's breasts, crotch and inner thighs, all naked of any fabric, were covered instead by red welts. She had obviously been horribly abused. Looking closer, Wonder Woman could see two black rubber plugs on her crotch. She realized with a start that these were the ends of rubber dildos that had been inserted into the poor woman. Even as she watched, she could see Batgirl writhing her hips, as much as her bonds would allow, as if tormented by the dildos inserted into her.

A black latex clad figure came into view. It was Catwoman. She sauntered up to the bound Batgirl, and reached up around behind her head. She fiddled with something, and then the leather strap holding the gag in Batgirl's mouth came loose and she pulled the rubber ball from the open orifice.

"Ready to talk yet?" Catwoman purred. She was holding a cat-o-nine tails in her hand, which she swished in the air for effect.

"Never!" Batgirl said, her voice weak but still defiant. Catwoman swung her whip and brought its leather tentacles onto the captive's crotch with a firm thwack. Batgirl screamed and bucked.

"Just tell me who Batman is, and all this will end." Catwoman said in a velvety voice as she circled Batgirl. She swung her whip again, and this time, the tentacles landed on the prisoner's breasts. Batgirl screamed again, twisting her body away from the blow.

"Ne ... never!" Batgirl croaked.

"I know you won't talk, so I brought something better." Catwoman said. She walked out of view. A moment later, she returned, bearing something in her hands. Wonder Woman saw that it was her Lasso of Truth. In an instant, she connected the dots. She knew why Catwoman had stolen the lasso. Having failed to torture the information out of Batgirl, she will now use it to extract the information she wanted.

Wonder Woman stood up and launched herself through the skylight. The glass shattered as she smashed through it. She swooped down towards Catwoman, intent on grabbing her around her waist. But her arms gripped thin air, and she flew through what she thought was Catwoman. Confused, she did not stop in time, and flew through Batgirl and the rack as well before smashing into a steel pillar.

"A hologram!" Wonder Woman gasped as she stood up, getting into a combat stance for this was obviously a trap. The next instant, several canisters were flung out of the darkness surrounding her into pool of light where she was. Even with her super fast reflexes, even though she recognised that they were grenades of some sort, she did not react fast enough as they went off with blinding light and sharp bangs. Instantly, she felt giddy as the images she saw froze into a sort of hazy grey and white photo. Amazon combat trained or not, super-strength or not, Wonder Woman's physiology was still similar to other humans. That meant that she was affected in the same way by the stun grenades. The powerful noise generated by the combined detonation of so many stun grenades overwhelmed her senses, violently disturbing the fluids in her ears, disorienting her.

As the Amazonian princess stood temporarily stunned and blinded by the stun grenades, Catwoman stood out of the shadows. She held Wonder Woman's lasso in her hand, and with one deft motion, she flung the lasso out to encircle Wonder Woman's legs. With a tug, she tightened the lasso around Wonder Woman's ankles. With another tug, she swept the Amazonian warrior off her feet, causing her to fall heavily onto her back.

Catwoman was on top of Wonder Woman in a flash. As the latter lay on the floor, still stunned, she lifted her trapped ankles up and over Wonder Woman's stomach. At the same time, this caused her ankles to become crossed and spread open her thighs in such a way that Wonder Woman's crotch was exposed to view. Holding onto the lasso, Catwoman grabbed each of Wonder Woman's arms and pulled them under the crossed ankles, between her thighs. Moving into a position facing Wonder Woman now, Catwoman rested her knees onto the latter's thighs, forcing them down further, with her knees on either side of her breasts. She lifted up Wonder Woman's wrists, and crossed them over the top of her ankles, such that each of Wonder Woman's arms were hugging her corresponding lower legs. Then, with the lasso, Catwoman bound Wonder Woman's wrists together by coiling the line several times around the wrists, then turning the direction of the running line to coil it several times across the lines now binding her wrists, before tying the line off with a half hitch where Wonder Woman could not reach with her fingers. The entire process took no longer than a skilled cowboy would take to bind a calf.

By the time Wonder Woman recovered from the effects of the stun grenades, she found that she had been quite effectively bound. She could roll her body from side to side, or twist her body, but the way her wrists were crossed and bound over her crossed ankles meant that she could not unfold her legs. Her crossed wrists trapped her legs in a spread position. Wonder Woman realized that she could not break her own Lasso of Truth, that the glowing coils would hold even her amazing strength. With growing despair, she understood that she was now a prisoner.

"What do you want with me, Catwoman?" Wonder Woman demanded as she struggled futilely. Catwoman remained silent as she used the tip of her booted right foot to lift the bound captive onto her right side. She knelt down behind Wonder Woman, and unclasped the hooks holding Wonder Woman's belt in place. She pulled the belt off from around her waist, and flung it aside. She then removed Wonder Woman's tiara and threw it carelessly aside as well.

"Stop that!" Wonder Woman demanded with growing fury and helplessness. Her lasso held her securely and prevented her from doing more. Catwoman ignored her as she pulled the free end of the lasso down from the latter's crossed wrists down to her stomach. She then pull the free end down the Amazon's left flank, the one laying against the floor, and pulled the free end out from under the bound woman. She looped the line over Wonder Woman's right flank, and mated the running portion of the lasso to the portion running down from Wonder Woman's bound wrists to where it disappeared under her. Catwoman knotted the portions together to form a belt around the Amazon's trim waist, before feeding the running end between widely her spread thighs. Catwoman pulled the running end down Wonder Woman's groin, over her crotch.

"What are you doing?" Wonder Woman asked again, her voice an octave higher as Catwoman reached out with a gloved hand, and slipped it into the right leg hole of Wonder Woman's costume, running it down until it reached her crotch. She pulled aside the crotch piece of her costume to expose her freshly shaven vulva.

Catwoman remained silent as usual, and slipped the line of the lasso between the lips of Wonder Woman's vulva. She then made a thick knot in the lasso where the line would cross over Wonder Woman's anus, before she pulled the line over Wonder Woman's tailbone and feeding the end under the line around Wonder Woman's waist. Then Catwoman tightened the line viciously, causing the rope belt around Wonder Woman's waist to constrict over her generous hips, before tying it off with a knot to the rope belt around Wonder Woman's waist. This caused the line between her vulva lips to tighten over her clitoris under its hood and was driven deeper into her vagina mouth. The knot over her anus now pressed itself hard against her anus, and caused the puckered mouth to spread a little as it pushed its way into her.

"Urrgh!" Wonder Woman moaned as she felt the line tighten in her sensitive nether region.

"Please stop that!" Wonder Woman pleaded as Catwoman continued to work with a resolute silence. The feline now pulled the free line up from Wonder Woman's waist to a point on her spine, just below her shoulder blades. Catwoman now wrapped the line around Wonder Woman's torso, once, and then a second time, below and above her large breasts. Catwoman then tied these lines together, tightening them tightly above and below Wonder Woman's breasts. Again, the Amazon warrior felt the sensation of a sensitive part of her body being bound, this time her breasts.

Catwoman pulled up on the free end of the lasso again. It seemed to lengthen at her will as she pulled the remaining line up Wonder Woman's back to her neck. Catwoman grabbed the Amazon's long luscious hair and pulled savagely down, forcing Wonder Woman to tilt her head back. Catwoman now wrapped the line twice around her head, over Wonder Woman's cheeks and between her jaws, deep into her mouth. Then she tied the line off between her head. Wonder Woman's head was now tilted back in an uncomfortable angle by the lasso. Not only that, she was now effectively gagged by the rope in her mouth.

"Gaggh! Gggah!" Wonder Woman grunted as she writhed in her bonds. She discovered to her horror that the more she tried to free herself, the more she tried to lift her head to a more comfortable angle, the more the lines of her own lasso would rub her in the most sensitive regions. Her breasts would be kneaded. Her clitoris would be rubbed. The inside of her vagina would be chafed. Her asshole would be stroked.

Worse, to her consternation, Wonder Woman found that her body was beginning to respond to the combined effects of the lines binding her. She could feel herself becoming more and more horny until she began to become wet in her cunt. The effect was quite obvious as whitish foam began to leak out of her vulva lips.

Why was Catwoman doing this to her? Wonder Woman wondered. She glanced out of the corner of her eyes to see Catwoman come around her trussed form. She stopped in front of Wonder Woman, where she could see her. Catwoman reached back around the back of her neck, and began to pull down on the zip running down the back of her costume. The zip came down all the way to the cracks of her buttocks, and she grabbed the sides of the costume, and began to peel the latex off her back, then off her shoulders, before pulling them down, off the front of her body and her arms.

Underneath, Catwoman was wearing a black latex corset that squeezed her waist in to what was probably a trim 24". The corset had severe boning, and Wonder Woman wondered for a moment how the thief had managed to move so easily in that garment. The corset also did not have full cups, only a ledge under her breasts to help lift up them up but otherwise left them uncovered. They seemed unnaturally large to the captive Amazon. She knew that Catwoman was a well-endowed woman, but in her previous encounters with her, her assets had not seemed so enormous. As Catwoman bent down to unzip her boots and take them off one by one, they hung down like ripe melons from her chest.

Catwoman did a half squat as she pulled down the catsuit over her hips and buttocks, to reveal the fact that the corset had a broad strap attached to its hem, on the front and back. The strap ran down Catwoman's groin, over her crotch and up her back, nestling snugly between the generous and firm cheeks of her buttocks. Wonder Woman was startled to see that there were small locks holding the strap to the corset, placed through steel brackets on the hem of the corset which pierced through steel plate reinforced slots on the ends of the straps. Looking up, Wonder Woman saw that the back of the corset was closed by a strong metal zip, and the zipper was locked to the top of the corset by another small lock to rings on the top of the corset.

When the catsuit was fulling off, Catwoman walked over to a near-by trolley that Wonder Woman had not noticed before. She saw Catwoman picked up a pair of heavy boots. These looked strange. They did not have the normal soles of boots. Instead, there were only straight shanks down to a tip-toe, paralleling the very high stiletto heels behind them. The boots had tightly laced up fronts, but also zippers on the sides. Catwoman sat down on her buttocks, and pulled the boots over her feet, zipping them up. Then she locked the zippers in place with small locks to rings on to top of the boots.

Catwoman now reached behind her neck, and pulled up on the zipper of the zip closing her cowl around her head. The back of the molded latex headgear spread open as the zipper went up to the crown of her head, allowing the woman to pull the cowl off. She was wearing another cowl underneath, of thinner latex, which still had cat ears, but had larger eyeholes and did not cover the mouth. Wonder Woman was startled to see that Catwoman's mouth was filled with a large red rubber ball gag which propped her jaws wide open. The drool had gathered during the time Catwoman had spent in the larger cowl now dripped off the sides of her mouth and chin onto her proffered breasts.

Catwoman now got on her knees and reached for the top of the trolley. She took a broad strap of thick leather off the top, and encircled the strap around her throat. It covered her throat completely, and forced her to tilt her head up. She buckled the twin buckles behind up, and then locked them in place with more small locks. She reached for the top of the trolley again and retrieved a pair of leather shackles, which she buckled tightly in pace around her wrists, before locking the buckles in place. The shackles were linked by a thin, foot-long, chain. She took a snap-hook attached to the middle of the chain and lifted it up to the D-ring bolted to the front of her collar, and snapped it in place.

Why has Catwoman locked herself in the costume? Wonder Woman asked herself, forgetting her own troubles for the time being. Catwoman lowered herself onto all fours. As she did so Wonder Woman saw her raised crotch. She saw that the strap had two plastic knobs on them, arranged one on top of the other. She realized that they were in the right position for a dildo inserted into Catwoman's vagina, and a plug inserted into her asshole. This only baffled Wonder Woman even more as Catwoman crawled from the trolley towards her. When she reached a spot next to the trussed Wonder Woman, she stopped and sat back on her ankles, with her folded legs spread open before her. The short chain linking her collar and shackles caused her arms to be lifted up on either side of her formidable rack, almost like a dog raising its arms in a begging position.

"You have done well." Boomed a voice over a hidden loudspeaker. Wonder Woman twisted her head and body around towards the direction of the voice.

"You may pleasure yourself." The voice continued.

Wonder Woman heard a buzzing sound starting and she twisted around to look at Catwoman again. She had dropped onto her hands and knees again, and her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. She was moaning softly into her ball gag. Looking at her crotch, Wonder Woman could see the plastic plugs on her crotch strap vibrating. Looking at the powerful pulses from the plugs, she could only imagine what the dildo and plug inside of Catwoman must be doing.

Catwoman twisted and moaned. She tried to reach down towards her crotch by straining her right hand back, but the chain linking her wrists to her collar was too short, and she could not get past her breasts. She could only sit back on her heels and cup her large breasts with her gloved hands. She began to knead them.

"You may make use of the prisoner." The voice boomed again.

Wonder Woman's eyes became large at saucers at that. She watched Catwoman crawl towards her, her eyes filled with lust. What was she going to do? Wonder Woman asked herself, panicking for a brief moment as her captor turned her buttocks loomed over her face. Then Catwoman sat down on the face of Wonder Woman, pressing her crotch into her jaws.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman screamed from under Catwoman's crotch. Catwoman was already juicing nicely, with white liquid coming out from the sides of the strap, and Wonder Woman could smell the mildewed smell of Catwoman's crotch, barely an inch away from her nose, mixed heavily with that of leather and latex. It was a heady bouquet.

Wonder Woman fought, trying to push Catwoman away with her jaws. All she succeeded in doing was to push the plugs deeper into Catwoman. That was exactly what her captor intended. Catwoman began to rock her hips up and and down, riding Wonder Woman's face as the captive fought her from underneath. Wonder Woman could feel the powerful pulses of vibrators on her chin as Catwoman ground down her crotch onto her face. She tried to shake her head to repel the woman, but she could not. After a few minutes, she felt Catwoman shudder on top of her, and a new flood of foam emerged from either side of Catwoman's crotch strap, splattering Wonder Woman's face.

"MMMMMMMPH! MMMMPH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her rope gag in protest.

Catwoman sighed, and finally lifted her crotch off of Wonder Woman's cum smeared face. The superheroine twisted and writhed in her bonds, incensed at the humiliation that had been inflicted upon her.

"How do you like my Catslut's cum all over your face?" the disembodied voice boomed, "Quite a number of johns enjoyed having that done to them, and my little kitty whore here has earned me quite a tidy sum of money."

"Great Hera," Wonder Woman mused, "What has he done to Catwoman?"

Wonder Woman looked up at the latex clad Catwoman, now contentedly lying on her side. She was so unlike the proud and fiercely independent Catwoman that Wonder Woman had dealt with on several occasions. That Catwoman that she knew would never have been reduced to a fetish sex slave like that.

"Enjoyed yourself, slave?" the voice asked. Catwoman immediately got up on her hands and knees again and nodded vigorously, the drool from the corners of her mouth dripping onto the concrete floor with each movement of her head.

"Why don't we introduce our new pet to the pleasures of slavery?" the voice continued. Wonder Woman's eyes widened again at the implications of those words. She twisted around to see Catwoman crawl over to the trolley. When she reached the trolley, she stood up on her knees and picked two objects off the top. When she turned around, Wonder Woman could see what they were. In one hand, Catwoman held a plastic squeeze bottle containing some fluid. In the other was a gleaming black rubber dildo of a size that Wonder Woman had never seen before.

"Ah yes, the largest dildo that we have. I am sure that an Amazonian warrior would have no problem accommodating something like that." Boomed the voice from the loud speaker.

"GGGGAAAH! GGAAAAAH!" Wonder Woman protested as Catwoman crawled with cat like grace over to the captive, clasping the two objects in her hands. She crawled to a point just in front of Wonder Woman's face, and sat back on her heels. Then, with a thumb, she pushed open the snap-cap of the bottle, and holding up the fat dildo, squeezed a large amount of viscous liquid from the bottle onto the black rubber surface of the dildo. Then she held up the wet dildo in her hand so that Wonder Woman could see clearly its girth as well as the hundreds of tiny bristles lining its surface.

"GGGAHHHHH!" Wonder Woman protested again as Catwoman now crawled out of view. She strained to see the feline burglar, but the way she was bound meant that she could not look down at her crotch. She felt a latex gloved hand touch her vulva lips, stroking them, and then a finger was inserted under the lasso cleaving through them. The line was lifted out from between her vulva lips and placed against her crotch to the left. Then, she felt slippery fingers slip pass the vulva lips into her vagina.

"GGGAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed in anger at the penetration, but this only served to advertise her utter helplessness in denying entry to Catwoman's fingers as she smeared the inside of her vagina wall with lubricants. In fact, the ministration of the woman was making Wonder Woman even more horny than she already was from her bondage. She knew that she was beginning to juice below, especially as Catwoman expertly worked her clitoris with her thumb.

Then, to her horror, Wonder Woman felt the blunt rubbery tip of the dildo being placed against her vulva. Her vulva lips parted and the tip entered into her vagina. Immediately, she felt the wall of her tract begin to stretch as the monster entered her, slowly but surely, its bristly sides brushing against the sensitive flesh of her vagina, sending shock waves up her spine, causing her to shudder.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her rope gag. She felt as if the wall of her vagina was being stretched to its limit, as if it would be torn asunder at any moment. She rocked her hips and twisted her body, but she could not fight the continued advance of the monster as it inched its way deeper and deeper into her. The intruder seemed to be filling her up all the way to her stomach, and she wondered for a moment if it was entering her womb.

Finally, the monster stopped, when Wonder Woman felt its broad base touch her vulva, with a bristly knob pressing against her clitoris. Catwoman once again crawled into view, past Wonder Woman, back towards the trolley. Wonder Woman turned a wary eye towards the swaying upraised buttocks of the crawling fetish slave. She stopped at the trolley again, and picked up another object, also made of gleaming black rubber. It was conical in shape for much of its length, before ending with a pinched waist and a flared base. Wonder Woman knew what it was. It was an anal plug. While it did not look quite as large as the dildo now in her, she had never had a butt plug placed in her before. The fear of how it might feel filled her with dread as the Catwoman crawled back towards her, her unnaturally large and firm breasts swinging beneath her.

Catwoman disappeared from view and Wonder Woman heard the pop of the squeeze bottle being opened again, followed by the wheezing of liquid being squeezed out. For a moment, there was silence. Then, she felt the coolness of a lubricant stained latex covered fingers touch the puckered lips of her anus.

"GGAAAH!" Wonder Woman moaned as she felt a single finger penetrate through her asshole, and wriggle around. Then, she felt the tip of a second finger being pressed against her anus. There was some resistance before it too managed to penetrate into her, stretching her sphincter a little wider.

"GGGGAHHH!" Wonder Woman moaned again. The fingers were now turning in her asshole in unison. Then, they began to separate, stretching her sphincter further as they rotated within her anus.

"GGAAHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman moaned at the increased discomfort.

The fingers were withdrawn for a moment, but Wonder Woman knew that the respite would not last. Sure enough, in a few moments, she felt the tip of the cone being pressed against her anus. With her sphincter now stretched, her anus offered only limited resistance as the cone was pushed into her. When the circumference of the cone passed the extent that the sphincter had become accustomed to, she felt the discomfort of it being stretched again, and she moaned once more into her gag. The sphincter seem to spread wider and wider until she thought it would snap before, suddenly, the cone seemed to shoot into her rectum, and her sphincter closed around the narrow stem of the butt plug. The plug was now inserted into her.

Wonder Woman felt Catwoman take the lasso over her crotch, and placed it back over her vulva. The line pressed against the base of the dildo and butt plug, driving the rubber objects deeper into the captive.

"GGAHHHHH!" Wonder Woman moaned, shaking from the sensation of the two monsters inside of her.

"Did you enjoy that?" the loudspeaker spoke again. Wonder Woman could only attempt to shake her head in despair as the lines gagging her chafe the sides of her mouth.

"Don't worry, there are more from where those came from." The voice said gleefully, "Your slavery has only just begun."

Just as the sentence ended, the two rubber objects inside of Wonder Woman suddenly began to vibrate, pulsing powerfully within her lower orifices.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed and screamed as she was shaken to the core. She had never felt such powerful sensations now sending shock waves up and down her body. Worse still, her body was responding very quickly to the vibrations, particularly to the violent rubbing of her clitoris knob by the base of the dildo. Suddenly, she felt herself cum, an explosion of pleasure mixed with the violence of the vibrations within of her, so powerful that it overwhelmed even the Amazonian warrior's powerful mind, and she fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Wonder Woman moaned as she regained consciousness. Her eyes fluttered before snapping open as her mind came together and the memory of her brutal capture and humiliation snapped into focus. She found herself lying alone on the floor of a small room. It was probably about six-feet by six-feet. The walls of the room were of bare concrete, as was the floor and ceiling. It was lit by fluorescent lights shielded by heavy, yellowing plastic covers behind heavy metal mesh in slits along the sides of the ceiling. A heavy steel door closed the only exit out of the room.

After the first cursory examination of her surroundings, Wonder Woman turned her attention to herself, twisting and turning her head to see as much of her body as she could from her supine position.

Wonder Woman saw that she was still bound with her own lasso. However, the bondage they had placed her in had become even more elaborate. Her arms had been pulled behind her back, and placed against one another such that her elbows were touching. The lines of her lasso criss-crossed her arms in a dense matrix from over her shoulders, out under her armpits, and then down her upper arms and lower arms until her wrists. The lines of her lasso not only encircled her wrists, but had also been pulled down under her thumbs and then wound round the back of her hands such that her palms were tightly pressed against one another.

From Wonder Woman's bound hands, the lines of her golden lasso stretched down in two directions, towards her long slender legs. Her legs had been folded, and the golden lines used to bind each of her ankles to their corresponding thighs. Given the length of the lines from her wrists down to her folded legs, her legs were spread open. Her body was also forced to arch such that her breasts were thrust upwards towards the ceiling.

Dull aches in her two lower orifices reminded Wonder Woman of how she had previously been abused by Catwoman when she was first captured, but she could not feel the monster dildos within her anymore. Glancing down past her breasts, she saw that the crotch of her costume had been restored back to their original position. However, her girdle was missing, and the lack of the grip around the crown of her head told her that her tiara had been removed too. Otherwise, the rest of her costume was untouched, a bit to Wonder Woman's surprise.

Just as Wonder Woman completed the inspection of her predicament, there was a heavy crash of metal against metal, and then the grind of metal rubbing against metal as the heavy iron door to her cell opened. She found herself looking up past her legs at a bald man standing at the door, dressed in a dark-suit with white shirt and black tie. He looked shrunken and wasted, and there was something unnaturally bulky about his legs. As he stepped into the room, Wonder Woman realized that they were encased in a steel exo-skeleton. There was a soft whirl of electric motors with every step he took.

Wonder Woman's eyes widened when she saw two glossy black figures entered the room behind the men, crawling on all fours. The figure on the right was Catwoman. Still clad from head to toe in black latex, she was wearing a latex waist clincher that was even more constricting than the corset she had wore when she tormented Wonder Woman. The clincher only helped to emphasised the roundness of Catwoman's buttocks which wriggled behind her, and the size of her breasts that dangled from her chest, the heft of which the thin latex material of her catsuit could only succeed in dampening in their jiggling. Her hands were formed into fists and placed within a pair of short mittens, which kept them in that form. The heavy rubber that the mittens were made from prevented her from even wriggling her fingers. The top of the heavy rubber mittens were fitted with thick cuffs, which were locked around her wrists by means of small locks bolted into place on the rubber.

To further constrict her movements, Catwoman's feet had been placed into boots of glossy black PVC. These boots were ballet boots, which had long seven inch heels and straight shanks which forced her feet to be positioned parallel to the heels in a pointed position. If she stood up, Catwoman would find herself standing at the tips of her toes, like a ballet dancer. It would make any aggressive movement almost impossible.

The boots had been laced tightly up to her knees. Even if Catwoman could somehow get to the laces with her bound hands, additional straps, covered in black PVC, encircled her boots at strategic locations, over the swell of her calves just under her knees, and at her ankles, that were locked in place with small locks similar to the ones keeping her mittens in place. These would make it impossible for her to remove the boots on her own without the necessary keys.

Catwoman was wearing a latex hood over her head, which was moulded so precisely to her face that the eyeholes neatly encompassed her eyes, and the circular mouth hole exposed only her garishly painted lips as her mouth was stretched wide open by a rubber-coated ring gag. The gag was fitted to an elaborate leather harness which encircled her cheeks round to behind her neck, down to her chin, up either side of her nose, around the crown of her head, and finally over the top of her head between the two moulded cat ears on the top of her hood, before coming down the back to meet the straps encircling her cheeks and neck. Finally, Catwoman was wearing a narrow leather collar studded with diamonds, to which a leash had been attached. The other end of the leash was held in the man's left hand.

The other woman was dressed in almost the same way as Catwoman. However, the ears of her hood were higher, and more pointed, like that of a bat's. There was no eyehole on her hood. Instead, there was a circular pattern of pinpricks over where her eyes should be, to allow her vision. She had no mouth hole either. Instead, a barely visible zip ran across where her mouth should be, and Wonder Woman could see the bulge of a ball-gag at that point, pressing against the latex of the hood. A short cape was attached to the back of her costume, but it was just for show, and it was not long enough to cover her upraised buttocks, which twisted and swung with the same energy as that of Catwoman's. Finally, the woman's bondage mittens were longer, extending up to her elbows. Like the ballet boots she wore, these were of a bright yellow.

If there was any doubt who the latex imprisoned woman was in Wonder Woman's mind, this was removed when the man came to a stop in front of Wonder Woman, and the two women halted to either side of him, and sat back on their heels, their hands resting on the floor. This allowed Wonder Woman to see the front of their costumes. While Catwoman's catsuit was plain in front, the other woman's had a window cut into the front, closed by yellowish transparent latex. The window was in the shape of a bat with outstretched wings, and exposed both of the woman's breasts.

"Batgirl!" Wonder Woman gasped, "What have they done to you?"

Like Catwoman, and unlike the Batgirl Wonder Woman knew, the latex clad figure now spotted enormous breasts, probably D or even DD cup-sized mounds of flesh. They seemed to look even larger with the woman's waist pinched in so narrowly by the waist clincher. Her nipples were swelled up and pressing against the latex of the window, and Wonder Woman could see gold rings threaded through them.

"She can't answer you, obviously," the man said, a thin smile appearing on his lips.

"Who are you? What have you done to them?" Wonder Woman demanded. The man knelt down next to her, and slapped her hard across her right cheek.

"Urrgh!" Wonder Woman grunted, surprised at the slap. She had been hit hard, punched, beaten and crushed in her many fights with supervillains before, but this was the first time she had actually been slapped by a mortal man. It was an unsettling experience.

"You will learn to speak only when spoken to, slave." the man said, standing up and walking away from her. Wonder Woman twisted her body around and looked at the man as he walked up to a chest of steel drawers at the corner of the room.

"I am not your slave!" Wonder Woman shouted in defiance, "Let me go this instance or you will regret it!"

The man opened a drawer and took something out. Wonder Woman saw that it was a large black rubber ball, perhaps two and a half inches in diameter, with a thick leather strap threaded through its centre, with a heavy steel buckle on one end, and steel-reinforced grommets punched in a line along the other. He came over to where Wonder Woman laid. She was now lying on her right side as she struggled to see what the man was doing. Bound as she was, she could not prevent the man from planting a foot on the right side of her back, and flipping her flat onto her back. Then she felt the man placed a knee on her back, and a hand grabbed her long luscious black hair.

Strong as she was, Wonder Woman still had a human anatomy, which meant that she was still vulnerable to the use of jujitsu locks or other types of physical control methods. The man yanked back on her hair, forcing her to lift up her head. Her jaws slackened enough for the man to shove the foul tasting rubber ball deep into her mouth. Then the man let go of her hair and quickly grabbed the ends of the leather strap. Pulling back hard, he forced the strap as far back as it would go between her jaws. This curled the corners of the Amazon's mouth far back, like a sort of grotesque smile. When he could not pull the strap back any further, he buckled the strap in place behind her neck. With the thick leather strap at the root of her jaws, Wonder Woman found that no matter how she tried to chomp down on the leather strap, her jaws simply could not get enough leverage to cut through the leather. Worse still, the presence of the rubber ball in her mouth – even now the visible portions its rubber surface was glossy with her saliva - and the way the corners of her mouth had been pulled back meant that she was already beginning to drool.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her gag, enraged.

The man, in the meantime, had walked back to the drawers and returned with coils of ropes. These were thick sisal ropes, notorious for their prickly texture. He dropped the ropes onto the floor next to the struggling Amazon princess, who was still unable to break her binds. He pulled her onto her right side such that her breasts were facing him. With an unceremonious move, he grabbed the front of her bustier, and pulled down savagely. The cups of her bustier slipped down, releasing the two globes of flesh they had supported and exposing her brown nipples. They began to elongate, thicken and harden in the cold air of the room.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed in anger, as she once again jerked at her ropes, again in futility. Worse, it was causing her breasts to juggle before the man's eyes, which lit with ill concealed lust.

"My my, you do have a magnificent body." the man muttered as he put a hand on her large left breast and squeezed it.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed in protest as she tried to jerk her body away from the man's grasp. She had never been handled like this before by a mere mortal, and it filled her with a sense of humiliation.

The man ignored Wonder Woman's protest and reached into a pocket in his suit jacket. He took out a switch blade knife and flicked the blade open. He put the blade against the centre of the Amazon's bustier, and ripped down. The material parted before the keen blade, peeling away to expose the captive's flat stomach, then her abdomen, and finally, her black curly pubic hair. When he reached this point, the man lifted the blade, and fed it through the left leg hole of Wonder Woman's costume. He then sliced through the top of the crotch piece. The crotch piece fell back to reveal Wonder Woman's crotch. At the same time, the costume fell apart to leave Wonder Woman's torso naked.

"MMMMMMMMMMMPPPPHHHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman once again made a futile attempt at protesting her treatment but it was clear now that the man would not stop. Not when she was at his mercy. Not when she was so utterly powerless to prevent her own humiliation.

The man now stood up and grabbed her left arm. Pulling up, he lifted Wonder Woman into a sitting position, resting on her lower legs. Bound as she was, she was left with her legs spread open. As she twisted and writhed again to try to break free of her own lasso, her large breasts swung from side to side. The man stepped back and let the Amazon struggle until she finally stopped, panting lightly. A long drop of drool hung from the corner of her mouth, hanging down towards her left breast.

The man now picked up a coil of rope. He had already doubled the rope, which was about seven metres in length. He now passed the rope around Wonder Woman's back, under her bound arms. He then pulled the lines of the ropes forward, and fed the running ends through the elbow formed when the rope was doubled over. He pulled the running ends through the elbow until the lines were taut around Wonder Woman's body, under her breasts. He adjusted the lines upwards such that they slipped under the curves of her breasts, with the mounds folding over the rough lines. Wonder Woman sucked in a breath when she felt the prickly texture of the rope touch the sensitive underside of her breasts. It sent a shock of sensation up her spine that she had never felt before.

The man now pulled up the running ends over the Amazon's left breast. He pulled the twin lines around Wonder Woman's left flank, round her back, under her arms once more and then out from her right flank. He passed the lines above her right breast now, before feeding the running ends under the elbow formed where the lines first rose up from her deep cleavage up her left breast. He tied the lines together here, to form a thick knot in her cleavage and leaving the lines running below and above her breasts in a criss-cross pattern. The man had pulled the lines so taut that the rope was already biting into the smooth skin of the Amazon, and her breasts were squeezed between the lines, both flattening and lifting them at the same time.

"MMMMMMPH! MMMMPH! MMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman panted into her gag as she felt the tightening of the rope around her breasts. The rough texture of the rope continued to send a strange combination of signals to her body. While she was obviously being constrained, she was also beginning to feel strangely ... aroused? That could not be! Wonder Woman told herself.

The man now picked up the second coil of rope and came back to Wonder Woman. He doubled the rope like the first, and oiled the rough lines around her slender waist, just above the swells of her hips. He twisted the loop end under the lines, before feeding the running ends through the loop. As he pulled the lines taut, a knot was formed, holding the lines around her waist together in a tight belt. He then stretched the lines down her abdomen to her crotch. Here, he expertly made two knots. When he pulled the lines between Wonder Woman's legs, she found that the knots came up and tightened against her vulva. One of the knots pressed against her clitoris hood, while the other pressed against her anus. As the man pulled up the lines between the cheeks of her buttocks, a shock wave ran up her spine as the knots pressed deep into her.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmph..." Wonder Woman moaned into her gag.

"Do you enjoy that, slave?" The man asked laughing as he tucked the running ends under the rope belt around Wonder Woman's slender waist, over her spine, and knot the lines tightly in place. Then he pulled up the running ends again, and pulled together the lines running around her torso. He tucked the running ends under these lines and then made another knot to hold the lines together. This put more pressure on Wonder Woman's breasts.

"Mmmmmmph ... mmmmmph ..." Wonder Woman moaned. She had never felt like this. She was being put into bondage and yet she was feeling more and more aroused. Any move she made would cause the rough sisal rope binding her torso to chafe her sensitive parts, particularly her clitoris, where the knot in the crotch rope was now grinding away at the knob with even the slightest move she make.

The man now pulled the running ends of the sisal rope up between Wonder Woman's bound elbows, between her upper arms. He reached up and fed the running ends into a hook suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Then he began pulling down on the lines

"MMMMMMMMMMPHHHH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her gag as she felt the rough sisal ropes suddenly constrict around her body. She felt her torso being lifted up a bit with each pull made by the man. Then her lower legs were lifted off the floor until she was standing on her knee-caps. Finally, even her knee-caps were lifted off the floor. At this point, all the weight of her body was concentrated on the lines around her breasts and her crotch, causing them to bite deep into her soft flesh.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHH!" Wonder Woman protested into her gag. The drools flowing out from the corners of her mouth were sent flying as she shook her hair, flailing her black hair about here. The man ignored her as he continued pulling until her head was at the same level as his. Then he pulled the ends of the rope to a near-by wall and tied it to a hook embedded in it.

Wonder Woman had endured many kinds of torture before, even bondage in chains, but she had never been so expertly bound in this way before. Everything the man did to bind her seemed to be calculated to cause her to become more and more aroused. Even through the pain in her crotch her and her breasts, she could feel the building tension in her lower body. She wanted to deny that feeling, but she could not ignore it.

The man now came to Wonder Woman's right side. He took hold of the end of the lasso binding her right leg. The line began to elongate as he began to pull on it, obeying the wish of whoever wielded the line to lengthen. When it was of sufficient length, the man tucked the running end of the golden line under the lines running around the right flank of Wonder Woman's torso, just behind her squeezed breasts. He pulled down on the line once it came up over the top lines, and fed it a second time under the lines from below. When the line once again came up over the top, he pulled it down. This caused the golden line to pull the lines on her right flank to come together, squeezing her right breast further until it was like a bun bulging out from her chest. This also had the effect of forcing Wonder Woman to lift up her right leg, spreading her legs apart further. The man made a hitch to hold the line in place once her leg was about forty-five degrees from the horizontal. He then moved to her left side and repeated the process.

When the man was done, Wonder Woman was left in a most uncomfortable predicament. Any attempt to close her legs meant further pressure on her already abused breasts. However, leaving her legs spread open meant that the man could have easy access to her lower orifices. It was a horribly humiliating position to be put in.

"Comfortable now, slave?" The man asked.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." Wonder Woman moaned, almost pleadingly.

"We're not done yet." the man said, smiling. He went over to the drawers and came back with a large black dildo. The man went up to Wonder Woman, and hunched down so that he looked up at her exposed crotch. He reached up to touch the point where the lines of the sisal rope disappeared under the Amazon's vaginal lips. Parting the lips, he hooked down the lines to clear the entrance into the vagina.

"My my, you're already so wet." the man said, laughing.

Wonder Woman felt the hot flashes of humiliation on her cheeks, but she could only struggle weakly in protest as any aggressive movement on her part meant that her sensitive parts would be put under even more pressure. She felt the blunt tip of the dildo touch her vagina mouth. Then, it began to force its way into her, and up her tract.

"MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her gag as the intruder advanced deep into her. Then it stopped. For a moment, she hung in her suspension, panting, trying to adjust to the sensation of the intruder within her. Then she felt the man pull the lines of her crotch rope back into place under the dildo. When the man released the lines, they pushed up into her crotch again, pushing the dildo even deeper into her.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman grunted into her gag again.

"One last thing." the man said as he walked.

Great Hera! What else is he going to do to me? Wonder Woman moaned as she tried to follow him with her eyes. When the man came back, she saw that he was holding a black latex object in his hands. When he spread it open, she saw that it was a hood, like the sort that now covered Catwoman's and Batgirl's heads, except that this one covered only the top part of the head and had a chin-strap to hold it in place. There were also no eye holes on this hood. The man pulled the opening of the hood wider and placed it over Wonder Woman's head. She felt the heavy aroma of rubber as the hood came down over her eyes. Then, it was snapped in place over her eyes, cutting off any light from her eyes. She felt the chin-strap being pulled down and snapped over her chin. There was now no way the hood would come off her head, leaving the captive in complete darkness. Not only that, Wonder Woman found that she had also been plunged into complete silence. The thickness of the rubber over her ears was enough to keep out any sound.

The total darkness and silence had an insidious effect. Having most of her senses cut-off, Wonder Woman's mind became focused upon the sensations of the ropes binding her, kneading her breasts and her crotch. It make her even more aware of how her body was responding to her bondage, to the huge dildo now residing within her. Then, without warning, the dildo began to vibrate within, sending powerful pulses up her body. It also sent the vibrations up the rope binding her crotch. She could feel the knot pressing against her clitoris begin to quake in synchronisation with the dildo.

Great Hera! Wonder Woman screamed in her mind as she felt her body beginning to climax.

Wonder Woman did not know how long she was kept in her bondage. She was kept isolated within the bondage hood from any sound or sight that could tell her the passage of time. The only events that marked the passage of time were when the dildo inserted into her suddenly spring to life. But there was no regular interval for this. The dildo would spring to life at completely random points in time, sometimes at such regular intervals that she was forced to cum and cum until she lose consciousness from mental and physical exhaustion. On others, there were long periods of quiet that left her alone with only the chafing of the ropes and her thoughts.

Wonder Woman's mind at first focused on trying to find a way to escape. However, it soon became obvious that there was no way for her to fight her way out of her bondage, bound as she was by her own unbreakable lasso. That thought soon turned to despair as her captivity in darkness and silence stretched. Then, as she began to grow hungry and thirsty, her despair turned to desperation as those bodily needs added to the other torments she had been placed in.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in darkness and silence, Wonder Woman felt a new sensation. She felt a hand touch her bare buttock and squeezed it. Then another hand touched her right breast, and kneaded it. She would have been angered by such an affront a long time ago, but her mind, dulled and muddled by the long sensory deprivation she had been put in, wrapped itself around the new sensations. A soft moan escaped her gagged lips.

"Do you like that, slave?" came a disembodied voice in her ears. If Wonder Woman had been more clear minded, she would have realized that a pair of headphones had been implanted in her bondage helmet for her enslaver to speak to her, but her mind was far too addled by physical and mental exhaustion to fully comprehend this. Before she can stop herself, she found herself nodding.

A hand inserted itself under the lines running down her abdomen. It ran down the lines until it reached her pubic hair, then pulled the lines down and aside. The pressure of the knots on her clitoris and anus, which Wonder Woman had become so used to, was gone for the moment. The dildo began to slip out, pulled by gravity and sliding along her lubricated tract, but something caught it. Then it began to move up and down her tract. At the same time, fingers probed her clitoris hood, spreading it away from her engorged knob, and began to manipulate it.

Wonder Woman moaned as the fingers and dildo worked on her. She threshed in the ropes suspending her as pleasure rose up from underneath her. She tilted her head back and shook it from side to side, the tail of black hair running out from the back of her bondage helmet shaking like the ponytail of a horse.

Then, without warning, the fingers probing her were withdrawn. The dildo was pulled out, leaving Wonder Woman feeling empty, and the lines were not restored to their original position, pressing against her clitoris and anus. There was nothing to pressure her now, except for the bite of the rope on her breasts. After having built up a full head of steam, there was nothing to let her cum. She shook in frustration, but there was no response. She was left in darkness and isolation once more.

The next stretch of sensory deprivation was even more unbearable than before. Wonder Woman lacked even the dildo within her, or the knots grinding into her clit and anus, to provide her with the intense pleasure of bondage sex. The kneading of her breasts by the rough rope could not make up for the emptiness inside of her loin. The darkness and silence became even more empty and time seemed to stretch on and on forever. Her mind became even more incoherent. It was like the withdrawal symptoms felt by drug addicts having to go without their drugs.

SMACK!

The pain shot up Wonder Woman's spine from her buttocks. The Amazon was jarred awake from her stupor.

SMACK!

A second shot of pain landed on her buttocks, a thin lash landing across both her firm round buttocks. Dully, she realized that she was being whipped. She rolled her head at that sensation. It was pain, yes, but she was savouring it like fine wine as a new sensation.

Then, she felt the blunt tip of a dildo at the gates of her vagina. It entered the cave and moved steadily up into her. It felt bigger and longer than the one that had been put in her before, and it advanced deep into her loin. She moaned at the sensation of her vagina wall being stretched painfully by the girth of the monster and the pleasure of the ribbed surface of the dildo gliding over her sensory starved vagina wall. Then the lines were replaced over her crotch, restoring the knots once more onto her clitoris and her anus. These added to her heightened pleasure as she felt herself being rubbed once more in those spots. Then, finally, the dildo jumped to life in powerful pulses, sending her into a frenzy of threshing and writhing in her rope harness.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman moaned into her ball gag as a third strike landed on her buttocks, followed closely by a fourth, a fifth, a sixth...

Wonder Woman lost count as she felt herself cum. She moaned, threw her head back and shook her head as she felt the intoxicating brew of pain and pleasure mixed together. It's like feeding wine to a hungry man. It instantly made her mind drunk.

"That's it slut, that's what you are. You're nothing but a pain whore." a disembodied voice in her ears told Wonder Woman as she shook with pressure as yet more blows landed on her buttocks.

No! No! No! Wonder Woman screamed into her head for a moment when her mind cleared to realize in horror as to how her body was responding to the treatment, to the abuse. She was a bound and gagged slave being forced to cum against her will, being forced to be pleasured by her bondage and humiliation, enjoying her pain. She felt a powerful surge of humiliation at the thought of how she must looked to her captors.

YES! YESSS! YEEESSSSS! Wonder Woman thought the next instant as she felt another surge of pleasure whelm up from her nether regions up to her mind as another powerful orgasm shook her, even as more blows landed on her buttocks. She could no longer tell them apart any more, the pleasure and the pain. They were all intermixed, and she was savouring both of them together. She had never felt anything like this before. Her Amazon existence had been an austere one, almost like a nunnery. When she went into the world of men, and was first exposed to the corruption of sex, she had resisted it mightily, never giving in to her lust even though she had felt herself powerfully attracted to men like Superman and Batman. But now ... now she was a slave being forced to enjoy herself, and something deep within herself was responding to it.

"That's it slave. Enjoy it. Let go of yourself. You know you like this." the voice in her head kept repeating itself as Wonder Woman shook once more with pressure. Then, she lost consciousness from the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and the pain.

Worse for Wonder Woman, this treatment became a routine for ... Wonder Woman did not know how long it lasted. Her blindfolded existence denied her any knowledge of passing time. Only the whipping and cumming sessions she was forced to subject to come to mark the passage of time. Otherwise, there was nothing but darkness and silence – and hunger and thirst.

Wonder Woman was soon suffering mightily from the latter. As an Amazon and as Wonder Woman endowed with the powers of the gods, she had prodigious endurance and stamina, but her prolonged captivity and torments were pushing even her high limits. She was becoming weaker and weaker as she became increasingly dehydrated and exhausted from her own juicing sessions. This weakening, in turn, added to her increasing delirium, further unhinging her mind from her former reality towards one oriented around the intense sensations of pleasure of pain, given to her so intermittently. Finally, Wonder Woman reached a stage in which she could barely struggle against her captors or even respond with rapture to her own abuse.

Wonder Woman awoke after having fallen unconscious for the umpteenth time to a slackening of the pressures around her breasts and crotch. These were unfamiliar feelings to her now, after her prolonged bondage session. She realized dimly that she had now been lowered to the floor, such that she was kneeling. The lines tying her folded legs to her bound breasts were stretched taut, squeezing her breasts, and forcing her to bend over submissively, with her head bow. In any case, she was too weakened to lift her head up.

Wonder Woman felt a hand pull the chin strap of her latex bondage helmet, and pull it down before lifting it forward and up. The latex helmet stuck to her head for a brief moment before it was ripped off. Cool air blasted against her face, as beads of perspiration that had accumulated on her forehead and eye sockets during her prolonged captivity began to flow down her cheeks. The part of her black hair that had been under the helmet was wet and flattened against her head.

"Look at me, slave!" came a distant command. It sounded strange to Wonder Woman after having been used to hearing commands from the earphones in her helmet. She found herself responding automatically to the command, her eyes having some difficulty focusing on the man after having spent so long in darkness. She also had to lift her head up, which was difficult in her weakened condition. She found herself looking at the man in the leg brace. He was wearing another sharp dark suit, and he was looking down at her. He was carrying a large stainless steel bowl in his hand.

"Do you want some water?" the man asked.

Wonder Woman's eyes lit up at the mention of water, and she started to nod vigorously. She stopped suddenly as horror filled her as to how she was responding. She had become such a submissive. Almost ... a slave. There was brief moment of indecision as she wrestled with herself before her pride finally won. She felt a flicker of the flame of defiance within herself, and she looked up again in anger at the moment.

The man smiled thinly.

"I am impressed, slave," the man said, "Other slaves would have broken a long time ago. No matter. You'll break soon too. But obviously, it is time to take more extreme measures."

The man walked away from the kneeling Wonder Woman, who began to struggle weakly with her bonds, even though she understood that there was no way she could break her bondage. She could only wait, exhausted and weakened as the man returned with a large rubber rubber object in his hand. He walked around Wonder Woman to her back, and unbuckled the leather strap keeping the ball gag in her mouth. He then pulled the rubber ball out of her mouth. A trail of drool followed the ball as it departed. He dropped the ball-gag unceremoniously on the floor.

Before Wonder Woman could rest her jaws for a moment, he grabbed her hair once more, and yanked it back. Once again her jaws slacked. The man now lifted up the black latex object in his hand. Wonder Woman looked up to see the inside of the object. It was another latex helmet. Unlike the previous one she had been wearing, this one was a full helmet that would cover her entire head. The upper portion was skin-toned in colour, while the lower was glossy black.

There were eyeholes in this mask, as well as grommets where her nostrils would be. Where her mouth would be, she saw a thick and short hard rubber knob, moulded into the shape of a penis. It was an unrealistically large penis at least two-and-a-half inches in diameter. The tip of the penis was in fact slightly wider than that. The penis gag was shoved into her mouth unceremoniously, and the helmet pulled over her face. She felt the rubber stretch tight over her face as the man pulled the helmet together behind the back of her head. Then, there was the sound of a zip being pulled, and she felt the rubber became even more taut over her face, squeezing her flesh and pushing her jaws tight together over the penis gag in her mouth.

The man came around in front of Wonder Woman, and held up a mirror for her to see. She found herself looking at a doll face, with exaggerated black eye-lining around the eyeholes and engorged red rubber lips where her mouth should be.

"Your suspension has been altogether too comfortable," the man spoke again, "It is time to make things a little more interesting."

The man went away for the moment again, and came back with a new coil of rope, which he doubled in front of Wonder Woman. He then produced a large chromed object. It looked like a large fish hook, but the end of the hook had a large black rubber coated cone with short blisters. The man fed the looped end of the rope through the eye at the top of the hook, and used a figure of eight knot to hold it in place. He then disappeared from view again. He returned with a large bottle of clear liquid, which he squeezed over the tip of the cone with melodramatic gestures, like a magician. He then rubbed the viscous liquid over the cone. When he was done, he disappeared from view again. He seemed to reach up with the line, and feed it through an eyebolt in the ceiling of the cell, just behind the point where Wonder Woman had been suspended from for so long.

Wonder Woman tried to twist her head to see what was happening. Before she could turn her head around, she felt the man stood astride her behind her back, and leaned forward to pull up her bound arms behind her, using the ropes binding her arms as a handle. As he did so, she felt her bound body tilt forward, then downwards until she was resting on her upper chest, with her knee caps resting on the floor, propping her bound legs up. This left her buttocks raised high up into the air. The man now loosened the lines running up her spine from the small of her back, then loosened the knot binding the crotch lines to the waist lines. She felt the pressure being relieved on her clitoris and her anus. The dildo inside of her slid out partly, but was restrained from falling out of her vagina by the lines.

In a flash, Wonder Woman knew what was about to happen. She knew what a butt-plug was, and she clinched her asshole in a vain attempt to resist the intruder. She felt the slippery tip of the cone touch her sphincter. Then, the tip penetrated her.

"MMMMMMPPPH!" Wonder Woman moaned as the pain went up her body, shaking her. She felt the cone being withdrawn a bit, then it was thrust in again, this time a bit deeper. She shuddered as she felt the blisters of the cone rubbed against the ring of her asshole. The cone was withdrawn once more, and after a moment's pause, it was rammed home all the way.

"MMMMMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman screamed into her gag as she felt as if her sphincter was being torn apart. But the asshole closed over the base of the cone, drawing the hook deep into her rectum, and the pain began to subside, leaving her panting.

There was another moment's pause, and then Wonder Woman felt the lines around her breasts begin to tighten again. Then she felt herself hauled up bodily until she was standing on her knee-caps, her big breasts squashed by the lines binding her torso. Then, she felt move movement behind her, and began to feel a drag on her asshole. She realized that the hook inside of her was being lifted up. She moaned as she felt her sphincter being stretched again, but there was nothing she could do as her butt was being dragged back as the man pulled down on the other end of the rope tied to the hook.

"MMMMMMMMPHHH!" Wonder Woman moaned again as the dreaded moment her legs were lifted off the ground came, and her weight came to rest on the lines binding her torso and – now – the hook in her butt. Her butt kept being pulled upwards, like a fish on a hook until her torso was horizontal to the ground, with her frog-tied legs pointing downwards and sideways on either side of her hips. The man tied the rope off at this point, leaving Wonder Woman in this most uncomfortable position. Then, as if this was not enough, she felt movement in the lines binding her waist. The man was re-arranging the knots on the lines. Then, she felt the crotch lines being tightened against her vulva gain, and once again, the pressure on her clitoris was restored. The other knot now rested on the base of the dildo, and it forced the rubber object deep into her vagina tract. She could only emit an almost inaudible moan at the sensation. The man split the lines now and fed them under the waist lines, one each over her hips. Then he tied the lines to the waist lines at her hips to secure the lines in place. When he came around before her again, she found that her head was now roughly at his crotch level. She guessed that this arrangement was probably intentional.

The man now knelt down next to her. He pulled up the black portion of the helmet over the sides and back of her head, and Wonder Woman realized that the black portion was not the neck of the helmet. Instead, it constituted a second layer of the helmet over her head. The man began to pull up on a zip that started at her chin, and the black portion began to tighten over her head. As the zip ran up the point of her chin, over her mouth and then her nose, it closed over her eyes, and once again plunged her into silence and darkness. The zip ended only at the top of her head, and Wonder Woman felt even more isolated, if this was possible, then before, suspended in an even more fiendish suspension.

There was a moment's pause, and then, the dildo inserted into Wonder Woman roared to life again, sending the captive once again into spasms.

"How are we today?"

Wonder Woman's mind swam up from its stupor at the voice. It had now deteriorated so badly that she could barely focus on the voice. Since the man altered the arrangement of her bondage, she had been subjected to another prolonged period of sensory deprivation, broken only by even more abusive treatments. She was now not only whipped on her buttocks, but on her breasts, now dangling below her. Each time she was whipped, the dildo inside of her would come to life in powerful pulses, ending her to ecstasy. With the hook embedded deep in her, the dildo seemed to be an even larger presence inside of her and its vibrations seemed to shake her even more. It did not help that her hunger and thirst was even worse now, and they weakened her will and body even more.

Wonder Woman felt the zip being pulled down and the black rubber petals of the second layer of her bondage helmet parted to allow her sight again. She found herself looking down at the floor. A hand cupped her chin, and lifted up her head.

It was the man again. He was holding a bottle in his hand. Water! Her eyes widened at the sight of the content in the bottle.

"Do you want a drink?" the man asked. Wonder Woman nodded vigorously, no hesitation this time. The man smiled as he put aside the bottle. He knelt down and parted the rubber lips on the rubber helmet on Wonder Woman's head. This reviewed the round base of the gag. It had checker knurling around its base. He gripped the base and began to turn. Wonder Woman felt the penis gag turn in her mouth, and then it was withdrawn from her aching jaws. The man disappeared from view for a while, then he returned with a new object. Wonder Woman looked up to see that it was a large ring, coated with rubber, from which two leather straps sprung.

"Open your mouth!" the man barked a command. Wonder Woman opened her mouth and the man placed the rings between her jaws. This propped them open. He pulled the straps around her head, and then buckled them together behind her head. Now he stood up in front of Wonder Woman, and unbuckled his belt. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his briefs. His penis was already erecting, a long and hard pole of flesh pointing its tip at her mouth.

"Give me a blow job." the man said simply.

Wonder Woman was stunned. She felt a flicker of defiance inside of her again. The act the man commanded of her repulsed her. She did not want to have the man's cock in her mouth. But her eyes darted to the bottle of water now resting on top of the chest of drawers at the corner, and she felt her will wilt away. Reluctantly, she stretched her neck such that her head moved towards the mna's penis.

The man grabbed Wonder Woman's head, and shoved his penis into her mouth. It tasted salty in her mouth and tentatively she flicker her tongue against it.

"Get on with it, slave!" the man commanded.

Wonder Woman began to lick the penis with a vengeance. She felt the warm flash throb inside of her mouth, against her tongue as she worked the tongue. The man began to thrust his hips, pumping his penis into her mouth, rocking her in her suspended bondage as well. The dildo within her suddenly came to life, sending her own body into a frenzy.

Wonder Woman worked harder and harder with her tongue as she felt her own body begin to respond to the vibrations of the dildo. Then, suddenly, the man ejaculated, spraying sperm deep into her mouth. At almost the next instant, Wonder Woman felt her own body spasm as she reached a dry climax.

"Good. I have no idea you're so good at this, slave." the man said smiling as he withdrew his limp penis from Wonder Woman's mouth. He pulled up his pants again, before unbuckling the ring-gag from Wonder Woman's mouth.

"What do you say to the gift that I've given you?" the man asked.

"Th ... thank you..."

The man gave Wonder Woman a sharp slap across her mouth. The slap stung and stunned her.

"Thank you, WHAT?" the man roared.

"Thank you ... master." Wonder Woman said, then hung her head in shame.

"Good." the man said as he went over to the drawers. He returned with the bottle. It was shaped like a baby bottle, with a rubber nipple at the other end. He placed the nipple against her lips and squeezed. A jet of sweet tasting liquid entered her mouth, and she began to drink eagerly.

"That's it slave, drink it all in. It's not only drink but also water." the man said as Wonder Woman drink eagerly, drawing mouthfuls of the liquid, which mixed with the sperm in her mouth before entering into her growling stomach. Very quickly, the bottle was emptied. The man put the bottle aside, and took the dildo gag again, and returned it into her mouth. Wonder Woman did not even resist as he pushed into place and screwed it back into place between the rubber lips of her mouth. Then the second layer of her helmet was zipped up again, returning her once more into sensory deprivation.

Over the next few days – at least, Wonder Woman thought it was days, her sense of time being completely non-existent by now – the man would return, and feed her. Always, he would demand that she gave him a blow-job, which she did with less and less reluctance now. The liquid was never enough to satisfy her hunger, but at least it reduced the growling and emptiness. But it soon brought a new edge to her humiliation. Soon, her bladder began to feel and she had to pee. At first she tried to hold it in, but soon, she had no choice but to beg the man to let her pee. The man laughed at this. He untied the lines binding her crotch, and then told her to pee from where she was. She would not be allowed any respite from her suspension for this.

Wonder Woman was at first too embarrassed to do anything, but soon, she had no choice but to pee from where she was, her urine dripping down from her crotch onto the concrete floor. Then the man wiped her off, before tying the lines taut in place again.

Wonder Woman's captivity stretched.

There was a new variation to the routine after a while. The penis gag in her mouth was replaced by a new one that had a tube running through its centre. This tube was inserted through a hole in the second layer of the helmet. Now, a bottle could be hooked up to the penis gag in her mouth even without the second layer being opened. She could feed even within her sensory deprivation.

When she was hooked up to the bottle, she had to work the penis gag with her tongue and mouth, sucking on it to force the liquid into her mouth. She knew that she was being trained to suck a cock properly, but there was nothing she could do about it. And when she sucked on the cock, Wonder Woman would always be fucked from behind. She did not know by whom, but there would always be a real penis penetrating her vagina from behind as she sucked and fed.

Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Wonder Woman knew that she was slowly but surely being turned into nothing more than a sex slave, but that thought became less and less relevant to her, and soon disappeared altogether as any notion of free will was forgotten in the emptiness of her sensory deprivation and the intense fulfilment to be found in her sexual abuse.

Wonder Woman had faced many enemies before in her former life as Wonder Woman. She had been beaten up, burnt, shot, amongst other forms of physical abuse, but this was something different. Her captor was attacking her psyche. And he has found the weak link in her armour. In truth, even before her capture and captivity in darkness and silence, she had been isolated. She might save the world time and time again, and be the subject of adulation and respect, but that only came as a heavy responsibility as she had to maintain and uphold an ideal image as a representative of the Amazon race.

Her own rigid warrior code had made it impossible for her to be intimate with men, any men, even those she dimmed worthy of her. But Wonder Woman has also human emotions, and that rigidity had meant a loneliness that left a deep and unsuspected craving within of her.

Her slaver had tapped into that carving within her, that yearning to belong to someone. Her sensory deprivation, captivity and merciless sexual abuse had only make her even more hungry to be owned, to become nothing more than a sex object, with no responsibility to save the world and no responsibility to be a noble warriors.

But as a slave, she could be a nobody, a no one, only valued for her body, for the pleasures she could provide. She was valued for what she truly was, a sex object, with no responsibility for her to meet any expectations, maintain any image. She could just be a toy.

In a topsy-turvy sense, her slavery had become her liberation.

Wonder Woman moaned again as this realization struck her, this time a moan of contentment as yet another wave of orgasm hit her.

Wonder Woman hung in her suspension for a long period of time, enduring her enforced solitude and sensory deprivation. Only her frequent rapes and whippings on her breasts and buttocks broke her captivity, and she relished the mixtures of pain and pleasure like a man lost in the desert would relish drinks of water.

After what seemed like months to Wonder Woman, there was finally a change in her situation. The outer layer of her latex bondage helmet was unzipped, and lowered, allowing her sight for the first time in a long while. When she could finally focus her eyes, she once again saw her captor standing before her. But she also saw a woman kneeling on the floor next to him. It was Catwoman again. Her costume had changed again. She was now wearing a skin-tone translucent latex catsuit that covered her nude body underneath. A tight latex under-bust corset girdled her slim waist, crushing it into an hour-glass figure, while at the same time lifting up her surgically enhanced breasts. Wonder Woman could see that Catwoman's nipples, like those of Batgirl, had been pierced and ringed too.

Wonder Woman could also see Catwoman's crotch. This was uncovered by a slit in the translucent catsuit. Her crotch had been shaved of any pubic hair. There was a ring hanging down between her long spread legs, roughly where her clitoris hood would be. It was quite a large ring and looked heavy. A leash had been clipped to that ring, and it ran up to the man's hands.

Catwoman's head was covered entirely by a latex bondage helmet, complete with small pointy ears, which covered her face entirely. Two brass grommets pierced the glossy black surface. This surface had been polished to such a degree that reflected the objects in the cell. A circular pattern of tiny holes on the surface where her eyes should be allowed her vision without Wonder Woman being able to look in at her eyes. Where her lips should be, there were a pair of thick wine-red rubber lips. The lips were slightly parted, and Wonder Woman could just see the red rubber ball gag the former cat burglar must be wearing underneath.

The man squatted down and unclipped the leash from Catwoman's crotch ring.

"Get up Pussy." the man ordered as he stood up and coiled the leash. Catwoman stood up gradually, and gingerly. Wonder Woman now saw that she was wearing a pair of knee-high black PVC boots. The heels were so high – perhaps as much as six inches - that they forced her to walk on a severe tip-toed posture. Wonder Woman could also have a better look at her hands now. She was wearing an elbow-length black PVC opera gloves, but these had no fingers, only a thumb. She could grip things but she could not spread her fingers, or use them for any delegate work, such as untying knots. To complete her outfit, she was wearing a tall collar made from hard black rubber polished to a glossy shine, which forced her to keep her head at a certain posture.

"Take off that helmet." the man ordered. Catwoman tip-toed over to where Wonder Woman hung, and unzipped her helmet. She then pulled the helmet off the enslaved Amazon's head. This removed the gag at the same time from Wonder Woman's mouth. Catwoman let the helmet flopped onto the ground, heavy with moisture.

"Put the dental gag in her."

Catwoman went over to the drawers. As she walked away, Wonder Woman could not help but look at her rounded buttocks swaying behind her. It looked even more round with the corset pinching her waist, and the roll of her buttocks were enhanced by the heels she wore. She retrieved a gadget from one of the drawers. It consisted of two semi-circular halves made from surgical steel, hinged at their ends. Catwoman turned and came back to Wonder Woman, treating the captive to the view of her lightly juggling breast. Catwoman grasped the wet hair of the captive, and pulled. Wonder Woman offered no resistance as she opened her slack jaws, and the other woman slipped the steel contraption into her mouth. She then grasped the winged nuts on the hinges of the contraption, and turned, producing a series of ratchet clicks. Wonder Woman felt pressure on her jaws as the two halves of the gag began to spread open, forcing her to open her mouth wider and wider. She only stopped when Wonder Woman's mouth could not open any wider.

Catwoman now went back to the drawers and came back with two long rubber tourniquets. She tied one to each end of the dental gag. Then she pulled the tourniquets back one by one, and tied their other ends to the top lines of the golden lasso binding Wonder Woman's arms. This kept Wonder Woman's head lifted up, held to the back.

"It is time to give you a shave, slave." the man explained as Catwoman now retrieved an electric shears from the drawers. Wonder Woman's eyes opened at this, but she could do little to resist as the other slave came up to her and switched on the razor. It did not take long for Catwoman to cut the long raven black locks of Wonder Woman's hair, leaving a short black buzz-cut behind as the captive writhed weakly in her suspension.

The next items Catwoman retrieved from the drawers were a shaving razor and a spray can of shaving foam. Placing the razor on Wonder Woman's back for the moment, she squeezed a lump of foam onto her hand, before spreading the white foam onto Wonder Woman's scalp. Then she took the razor, and began to systematically shave the short buzz off her head.

When she was done, Catwoman took the can of foam and the razor and disappeared from view. She felt the lines binding her loins loosen, and then fall away. Then Wonder Woman felt something wet being slapped onto her crotch, and she realized that she was being shaved in her nether regions too. This filled her with a renewed sense of humiliation, that she was being touched and shaved below, and there was nothing she could do about it. But, once again, there was little she could do as she felt the razor scrap against her crotch.

"Good. Now hose her down." the man ordered.

Wonder Woman could hear the clicks of Catwoman's heels behind her as she walked over to the side of the cell. She heard a wheel being turned, and suddenly, icy cold water hit her crotch. She bucked at the chilliness and piercing blow of the water.

"GGGGGAAAHHH!" Wonder Woman moaned into her gag. Catwoman began to spray Wonder Woman's body, playing the jet of water over her, like a man would spray water over his car. As she did so, the accumulated grime of perspiration on her body, and the dried cum and sperm on her crotch was washed away. The cut and shaved hair were also sprayed off her.

When Catwoman was done, she turned off the water, and came around to the man. She turned her back to him and crossed her wrists behind her back. The man then took out a pair of handcuffs, and placed its manacles around her wrists. Then he went around to the front, and attached the leash to her crotch ring once more, before he looped the end of the leash over a hook on the wall.

"Kneel." the man said simply. Catwoman dropped onto her knees, then sat back on her heels as the man walked to the drawers. He came back with a chromed steel piercing gun, a strip of paper sealed alcohol swabs, and a small box. He placed the gun on Wonder Woman's back, using it like a suspended table top. He opened the box and showed it to Wonder Woman.

"Here are your slave rings, slave." the man said, smiling. Wonder Woman glanced down at the rings. There were at least a dozen rings there, and they were gold-coloured and about an inch in diameter. He then placed the box on top of Wonder Woman's back before untying the tourniquets that had been holding her head up, allowing her head to drop down so that she could look back at her body.

The man tore off one of the packet of alcohol swabs, and opened it. The small of medicinal alcohol filled the cell. He bent down and brushed Wonder Woman's nipples with the swab. She watched helplessly as he took a ring and the piercing gun and held them to her right nipple. There was a sharp report, and Wonder Woman felt a dull ache in her right nipple. When the man stood up to take a second ring, Wonder Woman could see the lone gold ring on her right nipple. The sight filled her with yet more humiliation. Like the bracelets she wore as an Amazon, it was a symbol of her slavery.

When the man had ringed Wonder Woman's left nipple, he stood up and walked around to behind her crotch. She could not see what he was doing now, but he still held the piercing gun.

"You may be wondering what I'm going to do, slave. Pussy, show her your crotch." the man ordered. Catwoman obeyed, and got on all fours. She twisted and raised her buttocks until Wonder Woman could see her crotch. With a shock, she could see that both of her vagina lips had been pierced with a row of silvery rings. The large ring she had seen earlier was not actually threaded into her clitoris hood. Instead, it dangled from the end of a steel shank. This was fed through the rings on her vagina lips, pulling them into a row, one after the other, to seal the lips together. The other end of the shank had an eyehole, and a small lock dangled from it. With this arrangement, the vagina track was effectively lock shut.

Wonder Woman felt the chill of alcohol being applied over her vagina lips. Then, there was a series of cracks as the man worked on her vagina lips, ringing them like Catwoman's vulva. When he was done, the man retrieved a steel shank from the drawers like that on Catwoman, except that this was gold. He slipped it up through the rings on Wonder Woman's cunt. The dildo she had been wearing was still inserted within her, so he had to stretch her vagina lips over its base to seal it in place. When he was done, he took a small lock and fed its shank into the eyehole at its end, then clicked the lock shut.

The man now came round to the front. He took something out from his jacket pocket. It was a leather tag, like that they used to mark luggage. It had a small snap hook on one end. He attached the hook to the ring on Wonder Woman's right nipple. When he released it, she could read the print on the paper inserted behind the plastic window.

It had the printed lines, "Property of..." followed by a name. Nothing that had been done to her over the period of her captivity had shaken her so much as the sight of that label. She was no longer the mighty Amazon warrior, the princess of Paradise Island, the superheroine. She was nothing more than property. A slave.

Involuntarily, Wonder Woman felt tears well up in her eyes.

After she had been shaved and ringed, the bondage helmet was once again placed on her head, and Wonder Woman was put through another period of sensory deprivation, whipping and fucking. Her mind became more and more disoriented. Wonder Woman – in one of the increasingly rare moments of lucidity – realized that this could not just be the effect of the sensory isolation, or her prolonged captivity, or her physical and mental exhaustion. She was most probably being drugged, each time through the liquid diet she fed on. Not only did her mind became more and more disoriented, she could feel her body become hornier and hornier as days go by. Even the mere touch of a latex covered hand on her buttock now would make her moan and juice. Unfortunately, she did not have a choice but to partake of the tainted drink, for each time she was watered and fed, she was desperate for the liquid and the nourishment the drink provided.

The regime of drug, sensory deprivation, sexual torment and humiliation carried on for a long period of time until Wonder Woman could barely recall her previous identity as Wonder Woman. She was literally nothing more than a fuck slave now, as her existence was oriented around her cunt and mouth being used, and her sensitive regions being whipped and tormented. There was nothing for her to look forward to, nothing to provide her with meaning, except for these pains and pleasures.

Finally one day, Wonder Woman's bondage helmet was opened and removed again, together with the penis gag. Her mouth did not remain empty for long though as a ball-gag was shoved into her slack mouth in its place. She looked up, expecting to see the man again. Instead, she was amazed to see another man, dressed in the field gray uniform of a Second World War German SS foot soldier standing in front of her, complete with kraut helmet, SS rune collar tabs and highly polished jackboots. Her drugged mind attempted to comprehend this image but failed.

Wonder Woman could felt a pair of hands reach forward from behind and untied the lines binding her legs. They unfolded under their own weight and dangled from her body, the tip of her red and white boots touching the floor. Wonder Woman moaned as she felt the weight of her redistributed, causing the lines binding her crotch and the butt hook in her ass to dig deeper into her. She looked back to see what was happening, and saw a second guard dressed like a SS soldier standing behind her. She did not struggle as the lines of her lasso that had previously bound her legs in a frog-tie were now gathered together by the guard and used to bind her thighs together.

The guard went away for a moment, and he returned with a pair of blue panties in his hands. He knelt down behind Wonder Woman, and fed each of her booted foot into each of the leg-holes of the garment. Then he pulled the garment up her long legs up to her knees, just below where she was bound. The first guard now came around. He untied Wonder Woman's thighs, being careful to keep to her side, in case she was inclined to resistance even now. The garment was now pulled up above her long thighs to her crotch, before the lines were tied back in place around her thighs, just above her knees.

The guards loosened the rope lifting the butt hook in Wonder Woman's asshole. This allowed the captive to now stand up on her feet for the first time in a long while. Wonder Woman sucked in her breath as she felt the heavy dildo within her cunt slip down and pressed against the metal sealed lips of her vagina. The guards held her for a while as she regained her sense of balance. As they did so, one of them reached down and yanked the butt-hook unceremoniously out of her asshole. As she had not produced any shit with her liquid diet, the hook was clean.

The guards next untied the sisal rope binding her waist and crotch, relieving the familiar pressure on her crotch. Then they pulled the panties up all the way to her waist. Looking down, Wonder Woman saw that the panties resembled the bottom of her Wonder Woman costume. It was made of blue PVC and the stars on its surface were smaller and denser. The most important difference, however, was the fact that the crotch had a slit through its centre through which her naked vulva was left exposed.

After the suspension rope was untied from the sisal rope binding her breasts, the latter was untied and removed as well, leaving red welts criss-crossing Wonder Woman's body. One of the guards came up to her, and placed a red corset around her waist. Again, this resembled her bustier, but was also made of red PVC. Instead of a back zip, this one had an open-ended zip running up the front. The corset also lacked cups for her full breasts. The golden twin Ws, instead of running above her breasts, now traced the undersides of her breasts, with the centre point rising high up into her cleavage between her breasts, while the wings wrapped around up the sides of the two mounds. This arrangement proffered up her breasts, making them looked more prominent.

Finally, one of the guards took a black wig and placed it on her head. This wig had a tiara sewn to the front, with a red star in its centre. Again, this was a facsimile of a component of her costume.

The guards now attached a chain leash to the large ring at Wonder Woman's crotch, and tugged it.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Wonder Woman moaned as she took a step in the direction of the guard's pull to relieve the pressure on the rings on her vagina lips. She followed meekly as the guards led her out of her cell for the first time in what seemed like months. She found herself in a corridor with cell doors on either side. She was led down the corridor until they came to a door. The door opened and Wonder Woman found herself in another surreal environment. She saw a vanity top with a large mirror lined with bright electric bulbs.

A chair had been placed in front of the vanity top. On a closer look, Wonder Woman saw that it was bolted to the floor. It had an uncomfortable looking straight high back with a slot down its centre. It also had two arm rests that stretched high from the back to the front, where they bent down to form the front legs of the chair.

Wonder Woman was led to the chair, before she was turned and shoved into the seat. She found that the bound arms behind her back fit neatly into the slot in the back of the chair. A pair of broad leather straps bolted to the back of the chair were now pulled over her body, under her breasts, and buckled in place, pinning her into the chair. Another pair of leather straps bolted higher up to the back of the chair were pulled around her throat, and similarly buckled in place, rendering her head motionless. Finally, one of the guards reached down, and snapped a hook attached to the front edge of the seat of the chair to her crotch ring. She was very effectively bound to the chair.

When the guards were done, they stood aside. A figure now approached the bound Amazon. She was covered from head to toe in glossy black latex. Only a pair of eyeholes punctured the blackness of her body, showing a pair of dark brown eyes and just a hint of ebony skin. Over the latex catsuit that she wore, the figure wore a latex French maid's costume, with white latex ruffles on the hem of the flair skirt, the top of the scooped neckline, and the edge of the puffed sleeves. She reached out with latex covered hands to the make-up kit spread on the top of the vanity top, and set to work.

Wonder Woman watched helplessly as the latex covered woman worked. She expertly applied a heavy layer of foundation over her face, before lining her eyes thickly with black eye liners. Bright pink rogue was then applied to her cheeks, before her gagged lips were coloured with bright wine red. When she was done, Wonder Woman looked at herself. A garishly painted whore looked back at her.

This impression was reinforced when Wonder Woman was released from the chair by the guards and turned around to face a full-length mirror standing at a corner of the room. She was shocked as she looked at herself. She could hardly recognise the figure looking back at her. The costume she wore exposed all her naughty bits to public view, making her look more like a whore than an Amazon princess. Together with her make-up, she looked like a cheap street walker you could find at some seedy street corner.

The guards only let her look at herself for a moment, before she was once again led by the leash out of the room. She was now led through a set of double-doors. She found herself in a rather large room. It was set up as a studio, with black painted walls. Lights were mounted high up in the tall ceiling. Cameras were arranged in a semi-circle around a set occupying one half of the room. It looked like the interior of a dungeon, with stone walls, a small barred window high up. There was a large wooden desk to one side, and a heavy wooden chair bolted to the floor in the centre, like the one she had been placed in for her make-up.

There were several latex clad feminine figures walking around. They were all women, dressed in latex catsuits and bondage helmets, tottering on impossibly high heels. They seemed to be making some final arrangements. Some latex clad figures had already taken up position behind the cameras.

"All right, everybody get ready!" came a male voice. Wonder Woman turned to see the man who had been tormenting her sit on a high director's chair. He had a bull-horn in his hand. He turned and smiled at the captive Amazon as she was brought up to him.

"Well now, is the latest bondage porn star ready for her debut?" the man asked. Wonder Woman opened her eyes wide and she struggled a little bit, but she had become so weak that the guards easily held her.


	3. Breaking Powergirl

Breaking Power Girl

By Nimrod

The low hanging storm clouds flowed past the towering skyscrapers in the downturn financial and commercial district of the city as they released a deluge of rain onto the city streets far below. In the distance, the occasional thunder could be heard, deep throated roars rolling in.

The office of StarrWare Inc, an up and coming force in the software industry, was empty, with the exception of that of the CEO, Karen Starr. If the clouds were not in the way, shielding the office space, anyone from the skyscrapers opposite could look in to see the woman as she paced about in her office.

She was wearing the 'uniform' of a software company CEO, with a light blue denim jacket over a tight white T-shirt and a pair of low-slung figure hugging jeans. The clothes showed off the amazing figure of the woman. She had very trim waist that showed not an ounce of fat, with no hints of love handles. Her thighs well-toned under the tight elastic denim of her jeans, and her legs seemed to mile-long, an illusion accentuated by the high-heeled boots that she wore underneath the jean legs. To complement these long legs, her buttocks were perched high and out behind her as she walked, swaying to the gentle rhythm of her pacing.

The woman's rich blonde hair was cut into a bob that reached down to her shoulders, perfectly framing her face with its high cheekbones, sharp long nose, and large light blue eyes. Beneath her nose, she had full bodied lips that seem to pout permanently, which she made up with a luscious shade of pink. To complete a face that could launch a thousand fashion magazines, if she were a movie star instead of a software company CEO, she had a sharp chin.

But no one could miss the one asset that set the woman above most other members of her species. Karen Starr, to put it mildly, is well endowed. Her breasts hung heavy and high on her chest, pressing out in their bra cups against the front of her white-shirt, forming large semi-globes on her chest. As she moved, they bounced lightly, as not even a well-engineered bra could hold their massive volume in check. There had been endless speculation as to just what her cup size were amongst the many idle and foolish businessmen who had dealt with her. Some speculated that they were Ds, while others swore that they could not be any less than DDs.

No one, of course had ever dared to put the question across to the woman, for she exude a dangerous intensity and disdain. What could not be denied was the amazing talent that the woman had for writing software, rivalled only by her business acumen. Many businessmen had learnt to abandon their foolish notion that they were dealing with an air-head blonde with more mass in her breasts than her head by the first time they were taken at a disadvantage in a business dealings.

But the woman tonight was not preoccupied by her business dealings. Her mind was on something else. She went back to her workstation again and called up all the information she could find on the recent mysterious disappearances of young women in the city. The police could not make any progress on finding the women, which now numbered at least a dozen. Fear is gripping the city now, that a serial killer might be on the loose. There was nothing the authorities seem able to do except to warn young women, especially busty blondes – all who disappeared seemed to be busty blondes – to be careful.

Karen Starr was naturally concerned with this mystery. This was not because she was a busty blonde herself, but because of her alter ego. Or rather, her real identity – Power Girl. As a member of the Justice Society of America, she was sworn to uphold the law and justice. This was precisely the kind of cases that other superheroes, such as Batman, would become involved in.

Karen Starr's interest in the case had grown with each disappearance, but it was only this afternoon that something pointed her towards a particular suspect. He had come in to her office, in the guise of another CEO from a rival company that StarrWare was launching an aggressive hostile takeover of.

Karen recalled the man's appearance. He was not unattractive, being in his early middle age, with salt and pepper hair that was once dark brown. His face was finely chiselled with hints of Scandinavian ancestry, now mixed with the dark sensuousness of Mediterranean heritage. He was easily six-foot tall, but he was still shorter than Karen in her heels. She herself was about five-foot nine inches tall, but had put on the heels to dominate over the man.

The man had looked upon her with ill-concealed licentiousness, even as he was pleading for the fate of his company. Karen had set at the end of the conference room table, idly listening to the arguments of a man whose company's fate had already been decided by her, and he knew it. She was bored, and had used her x-ray vision to casually scan the contents of the man's haversack. She was taken aback to see some strange objects in the bag. There were two pairs of steel handcuffs, a leather blindfold with circular padded eyepieces, and a large rubber ball-gag. She looked up from the man's bag to the man's eyes, and suddenly, she realized that he could be imagining her wearing the cuffs, with her wrists and ankles bound, gagged and blindfolded. That image angered and disgusted her, but something intrigued her as well. Searching further into his bag, her eyes found a leather bound journal. Peering a little more intently with her x-ray vision, she read its contents. The first page contained a list of dates. Something jolted in her mind, and she found the dates oddly familiar.

After the man had left, Karen had cleared all business for the day, and sat down at her computers. Within a few minutes, her suspicions were confirmed. The dates corresponded with those of the women's disappearances. Within a few hours, she made several connections between the disappearances and the man. These linkages were indirect and unclear, and only with her advantage of having gone through the man's bag, that she put them together. She realized that the man had been on several of the fashion shows where models had disappeared, or had given talks in campuses where other women had gone missing. It was not difficult to guess the man's modus operandi. He was rather good looking, charming in his own way, and had all the appearance of being rich (something that he still would be when Karen take his company away from him).

Karen stood up. She had decided. She would investigate this man. If he were innocent, there would be no need for the police to become involved to the man's embarrassment. If he was guilty, Power Girl can deal with him herself.

Karen walked over to a cabinet to the side of her office. She placed her palm against a biometric scanner on the door. It read her print, and opened with a beep. She opened the door to reveal various sets of clothing, including several power suits, hanging neatly by hangers. Ignoring them, she pushed them apart to clear a path to the rear of the cabinet. As her hand touched the panel, it slid down quietly to reveal once more costume.

It was a white glossy spandex bodysuit with high-cut leg holes and a high collar, hanging from a hanger attached to the back of the cabinet. Next to it was hung a large red cape, also made from PVC fabric. A pair of blue PVC fabric gloves hung from hooks under the bodysuit, with a pair of thigh-high blue PVC boots resting on the floor of the secret compartment. Next to them, a red belt with a round gold buckle was hung from another hook.

Karen stripped herself down to her white bra and panties. The shoulder straps of her bra were clearly straining to keep her breasts uplifted. Her panties were a thong that left her firm buttocks uncovered. There was not a hint of lace on either item, perhaps so as not to leave an imprint on her white costume.

When Karen had stripped off her boots as the last item, she pulled the bodysuit from the back of the cabinet. There was an almost invisible zip running down the back of the costume. Pulling the zip down, she opened the back, and slipped her long legs through the leg holes of the bodysuit. She pulled up the costume, and it rode up her long legs until the crotch-piece of the costume touched her vagina. As she pulled up, the leg holes stretched upwards until they left her flared hips exposed. She then fed her long muscular arms into the long sleeves of the bodysuit, the right one first, then the left one, then pulled up the top of the costume around her neck. Reaching around behind her, she pulled up the zip until it came up over her neck.

Karen looked at herself in the mirror. The bodysuit stretched tightly and firmly over her curvaceous body, clinging to every dangerous curve on her body, from her buttocks up to her breasts. A window on the front of her costume allowed the deep cleavage of her breasts to be revealed, as well as generous portions of her body.

Karen reached into the back of the cabinet, and took out the boots. She pulled down the zips on the inside of the boots. Levitating herself lightly in the air, she pulled up her shapely legs, and fed each boot in turn onto the appropriate foot, and zipped them up until they hugged the lower parts of her legs. Then she came back to rest on her heels. The high heels boosted her height by five inches, leaving her a towering Amazon.

Karen now retrieved the red cape from the cabinet, and threw it over her back. She pulled the cape's gold medallion over her left shoulder, and then pulled down its attached gold chain under her right arm. She attached the clasp hook at the end of the gold chain to a ring at the right end of the top of the cape, slinging the cape in place. Inspecting herself in the mirror again, she was satisfied with the way she looked in the mirror. She not only looked strong and powerful in her heels, she was also astonishingly sexy.

Finally, to complete her transformation into Power Girl, Karen reached for her red belt, and pulled them around her hips. She wore them long slung to emphasize the prominence of her hips. She then took the blue gloves, and slipped them over her hands until they reached up to her elbows.

Power Girl turned to the windows of her office. Slipping one open, she climbed through the window into the cloud. Levitating in the air, she turned back and closed the window. Then she turned and accelerated away from the skyscraper, making a straight line for the man's mansion.

+++++

Power Girl had scanned the man's mansion with her x-ray vision as she hovered over the vast estate. The man had inherited old money, and a large mansion to go along with it. However, repeated scanning of the mansion showed nothing suspicious – with the exception of a basement which she could not peer into. Something was blocking her vision, probably lead-lined walls.

This alone did not constitute proof. Many of those who could afford it had nuclear bomb shelters built into their mansions in the fifties and sixties, and this might merely have been another instance of those. Power Girl could not casually just smash her way in, for she would risk worse than embarrassment if it was found to be nothing. So, she bid her time.

When the man left the mansion in one of his fancy sports car, she flew over him, following him as he went to a fashionable nightclub in town. She waited patiently on a rooftop nearby for a few hours. Her patience was rewarded when the man emerged from the club ... complete with a busty blonde in tow. She did not seem to be distressed in any way, and seemed to be following the man of her own free will as she slid into the man's sports car, allowing the hem of her micro-skirt to hike up sexily as she slipped her buttocks onto the leather seat.

Power Girl followed the man and woman back, using her x-ray vision to monitor the man. He did nothing to the woman except to paw her, at one stage, feeling his way down her purple panties, much to Power Girl's embarrassment. While she was no prude by any means, she felt as if she was intruding into another person's privacy – which was precisely what she was doing.

The man arrived back at the mansion. Again using her x-ray vision, Power Girl spied on the couple as they made their way from the extensive garage up to one of the bed-rooms in the mansion. This was followed by wild sex on the man's bed, which again Power Girl witnessed to her embarrassment. She could feel hot flashes on her cheeks. Then, before she realized it, her breath became more shallow, and her right hand snaked down towards the spot between her thighs. Power Girl caught herself in time, and removed her hand. She shook her head. It had been so long since she had been with a man. Her superhero lifestyle together with how busy her software business was left her private love life in limbo. Suddenly, witnessing the love making before her, she realized just low lonely her life had become.

Power Girl shook her head again, shaking the water from her hair as the rain soaked through her white costume, revealing a vague impression of her bra and thong underneath. She had to refocus. She peered at the bedroom again, and swore when she realized that it was empty. She quickly scanned the house now. She found the man again, but now, something had changed. The man was descending a spiral staircase that led from the bedroom he was in down to the basement. The woman was still with him, but now, she was wearing a ball-gag that kept her jaws wide open. Her wrists were now bound in front of her with curtain cords, and the man was pulling on a long free end like a leash.

Power Girl quickly swung into action, swooping down to the house. She found a way in through a skylight, using her heat vision to fuse the alarm sensor on the window, preventing it from activating as she pulled it open as quietly as she could. She flew through the house until she found the entrance to the spiral stair case, and flew down it. She came to a door at the bottom of the staircase, which was left ajar. She found that her speculation had been correct. The door was lined with lead, and a concrete staircase led down from the door deep into the basement.

Suddenly, a scream pierced through the air, coming out of the doorway. Power Girl froze for a moment then launched herself through the doorway, brushing the heavy door aside as she flew down the staircase. She came to a large chamber at the bottom of the staircase. She saw the woman at the far end of the chamber. She was completely naked and bent over at the waist. Her neck and wrists were trapped in padded circular holes next to one another by a rectangular stock made of heavy gauge steel, hinged at one end, and locked with a heavy padlock at the other. Her buttocks were kept in an uplifted position by a steel trestle placed before her long legs, to which her ankles were shackled by thick steel to keep them spread apart. Her ballgag had been removed to allow her to scream as the man brought a crop down onto her buttocks again.

Power Girl had seen enough. She launched herself at the man who was just turning around. A fist landed on his jaw, knocking him back. He staggered back at this assault and turned to look at the person attacking him.

"Power Girl!" He remarked.

Powergirl landed another punch at the man, this time in his stomach. He bent over and landed on all fours.

"How does it feel to be overpowered you pervert!" Power Girl screamed at the man as she kicked him in the side. She had to be careful to keep her anger in check as she did not want to kill him, only kick him around a little.

The man landed on his side, and curled up into a foetal position. Then, a strange sound came from the man's throat. At first Power Girl thought he was whimpering from fear. Then the sound grew stronger, and she realized that he was chuckling.

"Poor poor Power Girl," the man muttered as he climbed up into a kneeling position, "So busy kicking me around that she did not realize that she had stepped into a trap."

Power Girl stopped short. She looked up and really saw her surroundings for the first time. On both sides of the chambers were rows and rows of spotlights, like that for solar baths. Before she realized what this meant, they were switched on, washing her in their blazing red light. She felt the light wave washed over her body. She felt the red solar radiation push the yellow solar energy out from her body.

Stunned, she did not react as the man launched himself at her. He delivered a sucker punch at her gut, causing her to bend over. The blow was sharp and painful. Although she had only been exposed for a few seconds to the red solar energy, it had completely drained her strength, leaving her no more powerful than an ordinary woman. Before she could recover, the man produced a black plastic box from a pouch on his belt. The box had two steel teeth at one end, like the fangs of a beetle. He pressed a red button on the side of the box, and an electric arc sparked between the steel teeth. Without any hint of mercy, he pressed the steel fangs into the uplifted buttocks of the busty blonde.

"Arggghhhhhh!" Power Girl screamed as she was tasered. Her body flexed back, and she threw her head back as her body convulsed from the electric shock. Then she fell heavily onto the floor, flat on her stomach, still conscious but unable to move.

"It was so easy." The man said, smiling as he stood astride over the body of the fallen super heroine. He bent down, and grabbed Power Girl's red cape, and lifted it up, exposing her back underneath it.

"I see that your ass is as marvellous as your breasts. In fact, I think I can put this cape to better use than covering your ass with it." The man said admiringly as he planted a foot on the small of Power Girl's back. He twisted the cape around his arms and then pulled up powerfully. The snap hook holding the cape over her shoulder snapped and became uncoupled, allowing the man to take the cape away.

Taking a knife from his pocket, the man now sliced through the fabric of the cape. As Power Girl moaned powerlessly beneath his foot, he cut the cape into long ribbons. He had to interrupt his enterprise for a brief moment as the woman stirred and began to struggle. He knelt down over her and removed her belt from around her waist. Then he looped the belt around her upper arms and chest, and buckled the belt tightly, pinning her arms against her body. Then he sat down onto the small of her back, pinning her to the floor.

"Bastard!" Power Girl breathed as she felt the weight of the man crush down on her.

"Tsk! Such language. You will have to learn your proper place, slave!" the man said, chuckling as he took one of the ribbons in his hand. He fashioned a monkey fist knot in the middle of the ribbon.

"I'm not your ... urgh!" Power Girl grunted as the man grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and yanked back hard, forcing her to arch her body up and back. As he pulled back on her head, she was forced to look up and slacken her jaw. He exploited this position and jammed the monkey fist knot into her mouth. Then taking the two ends of the red PVC ribbon in his hands, he pulled the knot into her mouth. He twisted the free ends of the ribbon on either side of the knot, and pulled them back on the sides of her mouth, curling it into a twisted smile as the man placed the ends together behind her throat and tied them together with a tight knot. The end result was a thick and very effective cleave gag made out of a strip of Power Girl's own cape that made it impossible for her to utter anything more than muffled gibberish.

"UMMMMMMMMPH!" Power Girl moaned, as she continued to put up a fight to show that while she had been silenced, she was not about to give in.

The man now took a second ribbon in his hand. He got off the small of Power Girl's back, but kept her pinned to the floor by placing a knee on the same spot. He then pulled back Power Girl's wrists and crossed them behind her back. She put up an awful struggle, and even with her super strength now gone, she was still a strong athletic woman. But pinned as she was, with her upper arms bound against her torso, it was only a matter of time before the man won the unequal wrestling match. In short order, he had leashed her wrists together.

Turning now to her legs, the man now took a third piece of ribbon. He sat down on her thighs, just beneath her bulging buttocks, and grabbed Power Girl's right ankle. After the usual struggle, which the man seemed to enjoy, he succeeded in pull it up high into the air. He backed up his position until he was sitting on her firm buttocks before he pushed her right foot down until her right thigh. Then he tied one end of the ribbon around her ankle, before pulling the free running end under her thigh. Fighting against the writhing woman, he coiled the ribbon several times around the ankle and thigh before finally tying off the free end to the loops keeping her legs folded. The man now took another ribbon and repeated the process with her left leg. When he was done, Power Girl was effective frog-tied, with both her legs folded up helplessly by ribbons of her own cape.

The man now got off the bound super heroine. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled up.

"UMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHH!" Power Girl grunted into her gag as she was forced to arch her body up. The man did not relent, and continued to pull until her body was clear off the floor. He pulled her up and back until she was lifted back onto her knees. He finally released her hair, and allowed her to sit back onto her heels, with her bound legs spread open under her. Her breasts heaved slightly in front of her as she breathed heavily from her exertions.

The man stared down at them, fascinated. He could feel himself hardening at the sight of the woman, bound before him. Her white costume was still wet from the rain outside, and he could see her underwear underneath. He grasped the top of the cleavage window, and yanked down hard.

"UMMMMMMPH!" was all Power Girl could do to protest as the window was stretched wide open by the man and her bra clad breasts were exposed. Then the man took his knife, and slipped the blade underneath the band holding the cups against her chest. With a powerful pull, he sliced through the white fabric, cutting the band. The cups sprung away from her breasts, and they fell heavily down, juggling as they were liberating from the confines of the bra, their pink nipples beginning to harden and enlarge in the cold air of the dungeon.

"Much better." The man breathed as he looked down at the awe-inspiring sight of Power Girl's heavy breasts. The super heroine felt the hot flush of humiliation flow through her cheeks, and she began to put up a struggle against her bonds. This did not allow her to get free, and only result in her breasts juggling even more wildly, much to the amusement of the man.

"Do you feel uncomfortable without your bra supporting such gorgeous melons?" the man asked mockingly, "We would have to do something about that."

The man took the last piece of ribbon cut from Power Girl's cape, and twisted it into a rope. He placed the middle of the rope over the struggling captive's neck. When the woman would not stop struggling, he slapped her savagely across her right cheek, then her left cheek. Stunned, Power Girl momentarily gave up her struggles as the man pulled down the ends of the ribbon. He quickly looped one end around her right breasts, and coiled it several times around the mound of flesh at its root. Then he tightened the coils, squeezing the flesh out into almost a ball. He repeated the process with Power Girl's other breast. He then stood back to admire his handiwork. The two balls that were Power Girl's breasts, now suspended high on her chest from her neck by a strip of her own cape, were already beginning to turn red from the tightness of the bonds.

The man now took the free end of the ribbon binding her wrists. He snaked it past her legs, and pulled it out in front of her from under her crotch. He reached down and inserted a finger into the hem of her right leg hole. Then he pulled the finger down, sliding it along the hem until he came to her crotch. Then he pulled the crotch-piece of the costume aside, revealing her white thong. The man now took out his knife again, and with a single stroke, sliced the fabric just above her crotch. The fabric sprung away to reveal the blonde pubic hair of the captive. The man took the end of the ribbon again and now pulled it up mercilessly.

"MMMMMPH!" Power Girl moaned as she felt the ribbon press against the lips of her cunt. The fabric pushed past the lips and slipped into the soft sensitive flesh they covered as the man continued to pull up. The captive sucked in her breath as she felt the fabric rub against her clitoris hood, jostling the clit underneath.

The man pulled the end of the ribbon up until it met with the ribbon binding Power Girl's breasts. He coiled the end around the strips holding her breasts up, and then tightened the end. This drew the two strips together, further lifting up her breasts, and pulling them together against one another. They were now like two bright red fruits hung together along the centre of her torso as the man tied the end tightly in place, leaving the ribbon nestled deeply in Power Girl's cunt.

"Comfortable?" the man asked. A spiteful stare was all the reply that he got from the gagged Power Girl as she struggled weakly with her bonds. If she could talk, if she was willing to tell the truth, she would have told him that the bondage he had placed her in was fiendishly effective. Not only was she unable to find a way to break free or to untie her bonds, every move she made was having an effect on her. The more she pulled at the ribbon binding her wrists, the more the fabric in her cunt would rub against the sensitive flesh there, and manipulate her clit underneath her hood. The more she struggled, the more the coils around her breasts would squeeze and knead them.

"I see that you still have much fire in you. Perhaps a little punishment is in order?" the man mused. He reached up grasped a snap hook attached to the end of a length of chain. As the man pulled down the end of the chain, there was the sound of a ratchet clicking, paying out the chain link by link until the snap hook hovered just over the nexus of the ribbons binding Power Girl's breasts. He took the snap hook and fed it through the coils around the breasts. Then he walked over to one of the walls, and pressed a button on a box mounted on it. There was a heavy whine above Power Girl, and the chain began to pull up. As it did so, the snap hook was lifted up with it, pulling the ribbons binding her along with it. As it did so, the coils around her breasts tightened further, and she felt the ribbon in her crotch dug in deeper. She was forced to first sit up, then stand up on her knees to take some of the pressure off her sensitive regions, but soon, even this was not enough. She was lifted physically off the floor, and the weight of her entire body being suspended from her breasts and crotch.

"MMMMMPH!" Power Girl moaned as she felt the vice-like grip on her breasts and the tight pressure in her crotch. The chain only stopped when she was lifted high up into the air.

The man now came over and looked up at the struggling beauty. Her frog-tied legs were spread open beneath her, allowing him to see up into her crotch. The ribbon was now nestled so deep in her that her vagina lips almost closed over it, leaving a picture that looked like a cleave-gag to accompany the actual one in her mouth. Her breasts were now a very lively red, and the man knew that soon, they would be purple from the lack of blood circulation.

"Good. Now, while you're hung out to dry, perhaps I'll divert myself with a little amusement." The man said, as he took a bull-whip from the wall, and turned his attention back to the other bound captive in the dungeon, leaving Power Girl to struggle futilely in her suspension bondage.

+++++

The next few hours were pure agony for the poor girl as she was whipped and raped mercilessly in both her holes by the man. The enormous ball-gag had been returned to her mouth, forcing her to drool as she was abused. Red welts now covered her body, especially on her breasts and buttocks.

They had not been easy for Power Girl either. The suspension bondage she had been placed in was cruel enough. She had lost all sensation in her breasts now, and looking down, she could see that they are now a deep purple. Worse, her cunt seemed to be aflame as the ribbon chafed her sensitive skin there. But what was worse for her was her utter helplessness as she was forced to witness the torment of the other woman beneath her. She was supposed to be a protector for the weak and helpless, like the woman below her. Yet, she was unable to do so. She had been reduced to being weak and helpless herself, and placed in bondage no less humiliating than the other woman's. Finally, when she could look no more, she had turned away from the sight of the woman's torture, but she could not escape her gagged screams, each one reminding her just how far she had fallen.

If anything was worse, it was the fact that Power Girl felt herself becoming strangely aroused. The merciless rubbing of her clitoris was having an effect on her. As she struggled to free her self, she could also feel herself becoming more and more horny. Soon, she could feel the wetness inside of her escaping pass the ribbon binding her crotch onto her vulva. The juices dripped down from her vulva between her spread legs onto the floor. When the man finally stopped abusing the other woman and turned his attention back to Power Girl, he saw the little drips on the floor and looked up.

"Well, well, does our little super heroine like to be tied up?" The man asked, smiling, "Or does she enjoy the sight of another woman being abused."

"MMMMMMMPPHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed into her gag, and renewed her futile attempts to break her bondage. She wanted to tell the man what a monster he was. But all she succeeded in doing was to set her breasts in motion again.

The man smiled, and went over to the control box on the wall. He pressed the button again, and Power Girl was slowly lowered to the floor until she was sitting on her heels again. He came back to the bound woman and removed the hook from the ribbons binding her breasts. Then he untied the nexus of ribbons from around the woman's breasts, freeing her breasts and relieving the tension from her crotch. As the coils became undone from around her breasts, little pin pricks began to grow over her breasts, pin pricks which soon grew into what seemed like piercings using knitting needles, as blood returned to her breasts. Power Girl could only moan.

"Don't deny it, little slave," The man whispered into her right ear as she writhed, "You enjoyed it didn't you?"

Power Girl felt the now familiar sense of shame flood her cheeks. She could not deny that she was feeling wet and horny right now. How could she feel like this when she had been captured, horribly humiliated and was still a captive of this man? How could she be such a slut.

The man now pushed Power Girl forward and lowered her forward onto the floor until her chest was resting on the floor and her right cheek pressed into its cold concrete. Her legs were still folded, resting on her knees, with her buttocks now lifted high up into the air. The man lifted the ribbon away from her crotch, exposing it to the cold air. Her cunt was still juicy and wet.

"Perhaps what you want now is the feel of a man within you." The man said, laughing. He still had not put on his pants, which he had taken off earlier to rape the other woman. Now his penis was rock hard again, and Power Girl could see it being aimed at her vagina as she looked back between her legs.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHHHHH!" Power Girl protested as she felt the hot tip of the penis touch her vagina lips. It pierced through the folds of flesh and entered her tunnel.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed into her gag as the fleshy monster entered into her tight vagina, its way eased by the lubrication provided by her own juice. It shoved its way into her. As the man began to pump vigorously into her upraised buttocks, her breasts, which were still light purple, began to juggle underneath her as her entire body rocked to the motion. She struggled and twisted, but the man held firmly to her wide buttocks as he raped her. She could only continue to scream and protest into her gag as the monster slide up and down her tract. Finally, she felt the man released his load into her, a flush of fluid ejaculated into her innards. When the man withdrew his manhood from inside of her, he leg to of her and she felt to her side. She began to sob uncontrollably, shame overwhelming her at her own helplessness and rape. White juice flowed out of her cunt, a musty mixture of her own juice and the man's semen.

"That was good, slave." The man said, smiling as he stood up. He left Power Girl sobbing on the floor as he walked over to a chest of drawers at a corner of the chamber. He returned with a thick white leather collar, with a chain leash attached.

"Now that you're my slave, this should be around your neck." The man said. Power Girl did not resist as he grabbed her hair again, and lifted up her neck to wrap the leather collar around her throat. Then he pulled the ends together behind her back, and used the three buckles and straps there to secure the collar in place. The collar was a high one, and once it was properly strapped in, Power Girl was forced to tilt her neck up. The man now untied her wrists and allowed her lower arms to fall forward. He stood up and picked up the other end of the leash chain and tugged at it.

"Move it, slave!" the man commanded harshly as he pulled at the chain.

Power Girl was forced to clumber up to her knees, then stand on all fours, on her knees and hands. With her own belt still binding her upper arms and body, she did so with some difficulty, her breasts flopping underneath her.

The man was merciless and ignored her. He pulled on the chain again, and began to walk off, leading the defeated super heroine by the leash. She was forced to scamper after him on all fours, moving her frog-tied legs and lower arms as fast as she could to keep up with him and prevent herself from being choked.

"MMMMPH! MMMMMPH!" Power Girl moaned as she was led out of the chamber through a doorway into another chamber beyond. This chamber was longer by comparison with the first. Looking around her with some difficulty with the collar around her throat, she saw that it was lined with little cells made from chain-link fences. Inside, were the missing women. All of them were undressed to some degree. Some were completely naked. Others still had some clothing on them, usually cut up or ragged. There was a bra here and a panties there, or garter-belt with ruined stockings. But all were humiliatingly exposed. All were bound in one way or other. The women were all looking at her now. They recognised the costume, and some of their faces registered shock. Power Girl could only imagine what they were thinking. She was thinking the same herself. How could such a powerful super heroine be reduced to such a state, a slave walking like a dog behind her captor, an ordinary mortal?

Power Girl was led beyond the cages until she came to the end of the chamber. There were other cells here, but these were bricked up little rooms, with heavy doors.

"This is where I keep the more recalcitrant ones." The man said, "Sort of solitary confinement cells."

The man unlocked one of the cell doors, and opened it. It was completely dark within the cell. As the door opened, a rectangle of light was thrown in, to reveal a woman suspended from the ceiling. The woman's ankles were crossed in front of her, and tied to her neck with a thick rough rope. Her heavy breasts could just be seen beneath her thighs, with rope binding them above and below. The rope suspending her was tied to these lines, just above her cleavage. With her weight resting on her breasts, they were squeezed and pulled upwards. Her arms had been pulled behind her, and no doubt bound together.

In this position, the woman's cunt was completely exposed to view, at the level of the man's penis. This would no doubt allow her to be used any time the man pleased. Power Girl could see the stains of her previous rapes on her vulva and her anus. The latter had been stretched open from the usual pucker into a loose hole. The woman was looking at her too, her eyes lined with ruined mascara. They were empty as if her mind had been ruined by the abuses inflicted on her. Her jaws, held open by a steel vice, drooled uncontrollably onto her breast.

"She is particularly difficult to break." The man said, "But soon, she will be as compliant as the rest."

The man shut the door on the unfortunate woman, and now tugged on Power Girl's chain again. She was led to the cell furthest away in the corner. The man opened the door to reveal the inside of the cell.

Unlike the first cell, this one was lit by a small naked bulb suspended by a wire from the ceiling. There was a single piece of furniture in the cell in front of the far wall, an iron frame bed. There was no mattress on the wire frame. Short chains had been secured to the heavy frame of the bed at each of the corners, chains ending with snap hooks. Power Girl was led to the front of the bed, and brought to a stop, standing on her hands and knees. Looking onto the wire-frame of the bed, she saw thick iron shackles placed on them. There were two sizes, one smaller than the other. Each were hinged into two halves, and kept close with heavy padlocks. The man took one of the smaller ones, and opened the lock with a key. He knelt down and opened the shackle. He then closed it around her left wrist, and padlocked it. He took the other smaller shackle, and secured her right wrist in the same way, before taking the larger shackles, and placing them around her upraised ankles.

The man now pulled Power Girl up to the right front corner of the bed.

"Get on the bed!" the man ordered. When Power Girl was slow to obey, the man yanked the leash chain up mercilessly, choking her. She moved to obey as well as she could in her bound position. The man had to help lift her up off the floor and rest her buttocks on the edge of the bed. The man spread her legs open roughly, and took the snap hook on the end of the chain secured to that corner of the bed. He snapped the hook into the padlock on the ankle shackle on her ankle next to it, her left ankle. He then pulled her wrists together, and yanked her to one side, and used the snap-hook attached to the chain riveted to the corner behind her to secure her wrists together. Only when she was thus secured did he untie her left leg.

"Move your butt to the center!" the man ordered, yanking her chain again. Power Girl had no choice but to obey. She twisted her body, rubbing her bare buttocks against the rusty links of the wire-frame underneath to manoeuvre herself into position. The man took a hold of her right ankle, and untied her right leg. Before she could even think of kicking him, the man had pulled the leg straight and down, and secured the shackle around her right ankle to the other front corner of the bed with the relevant snap hook. The whole arrangement now left Power Girl sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs spread wide open.

The man stood up and walked around into the narrow space behind the bed. He leaned down and unbuckled the belt that had bound her arms to her body. Then, he released her right wrist from the snap-hook and pulled her right arm straight and away. From this position over her, he had no problems defeating her pathetic attempt at resisting as he pulled her wrist to the far corner of the bed, and secured it to the snap-hook.

Standing back, the man surveyed the result of his work. Power Girl had been mercilessly spread-eagled across the iron frame bed, with her thighs spread open along the edge and her arms were stretched along the rear length. The man turned and left the room. He soon returned with two large black rubber objects in one hand and a squeeze bottle in the other.

Power Girl's eyes widened when she saw what they were. One was a long and thick dildo with a blunt tip. The other was cone-shaped, with a sharp tip that steadily thickened into a fat body, before pinching in at the bottom. She knew what it was. It was a butt-plug. The man placed the butt-plug next to her. He pushed up the snap-cover of the squeeze bottle, and squeezed a generous amount of its viscous clear gel onto it. He applied the gel all over the dildo, then aimed the tip at Power Girl's cunt.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed as she felt the monster enter her, its passage eased both by the remaining fluid from her earlier rape and the lubricant the man had applied on its surface. Its girth was nothing that she had ever endured, and she felt it stretched her vagina wall to its limit as it snaked relentlessly into her. She could only shake her head violently and pull at her fetters as the monster slid into her. When it could go in no more, the man took his hand off it and picked up the butt-plug. He applied an equally generous amount of lubricant on the cone, and aimed it at the puckered mouth of her anus.

Power Girl had never had a butt-plug put into her before. She was fearful of how it would feel. She felt its cool surface pierce through the mouth of her sphincter, and it began to widen the muscle steadily as it entered. The man showed no mercy as he pushed, not relieving the pressure at all to allow her sphincter to relax and get use to the stretch. He pushed it in steadily and the butt-plug's girth stretched the sphincter painfully open as it entered. Power Girl could only scream into her gag as the pain shot up her spine. Finally, after what seemed like a long time, the fattest portion was past, and her anus closed over the pinched waist of the plug, drawing it deeper into her. Together with the dildo already in her, she felt as if her insides had been filled to the brim.

"That will do for tonight." The man said, satisfied as Power Girl writhed helplessly, tugging at the shackles and chains holding her. The man turned to go. At the door, he stopped.

"Oh, before I forget." The man said, holding up a small black plastic box. He pressed a button on its face. There was a beep. Suddenly, the two rubber monsters now nestled in her lower tracts came to life with powerful pulses of vibration. Power Girl felt herself shoot to the core as the monsters pulsated within her.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed into her gag as the man laughed and slammed the cell door shut behind him, leaving his captive to her torments.

+++++

Power Girl spent what seemed like days in her cell, her insides being ruthlessly assaulted by the monsters inserted into her. Her shackles held her helplessly flat on her back as her body convulsed from the tremors from the monsters. They did not stay on all the time, quieting down from time to time, but, often, just as Power Girl was dropping off to an exhausted sleep, they would come alive again, shaking her awake, and setting her off her moaning and groaning again.

The monsters were very effective at stimulating her sex as well. She was aroused again and again, and then forced to cum. She had cummed so many times that she could cum no more, and her body simply convulsed and produced no more juice. Then the monsters would suddenly go silent again, leaving her panting from her exertions.

The single bulb in the cell seemed to be tied to the monsters inside of her. When the monsters go silent, the bulb would begin to dim, then stop shining altogether, plunging her into the darkness of her cell. The cell door fitted its frame well enough that no light came in from any cracks. No sound could be heard either through the door, and the only sounds in her cell were that of her own gagged moaning, her laboured breathing, and the clinking her the chains that bind her as she struggled with them.

Power Girl felt completely isolated in her bonds as she laid in her darkness. The lack of sounds and light as she lay on the bed frame made her feel as if she had been abandoned. Although she knew that she had been captured for no more than a few days, her isolation made her captivity seem to stretch out. Her memories of freedom, of soaring through the air seem to be increasingly distant, an alien thought that had no associations whatsoever with who she was currently. And then, the monsters would come back to live again.

In time, Power Girl began to welcome the torments of the monster. They were the only powerful stimulus that broke into her world of silence and darkness, the only things that seem to awaken her senses from their increasing stupor. But each time their ministrations stopped, she was plunged into even deeper isolation, an isolation that increasingly numbed her mind and dulled her senses.

It did not help that Power Girl's body was becoming weaker by the day. She had not partaken of any food since her captivity. The hunger within her was slowly growing, gnawing at her, weakening her physically. With her ebbing strength, her ability to hold on to her sanity or her focus went as well, making her even more vulnerable to the encroaching despair that threatened to engulf her.

But soon, her hunger was replaced by the thirst in her mouth. Power Girl's mouth was still gagged by the ribbon cut from her own costume. The cape, once a symbol of her superpowers, was now used to torment her in yet another way. With her mouth held open, with the knot in her mouth, she kept salivating. When the saliva dried off, it left nothing but a dry mouth behind, increasing her thirst.

Power Girl felt abandoned in her cell as time crawled slowly. Her mind became increasingly dull as she struggled with her isolation, her hunger, her thirst, and then the burst of maniac energy from her nether regions that shook her to the core. She began to wonder if this was the ultimate plan of the man, to abandon her, and to allow her to die of thirst, hunger or sexual over-stimulation.

When the man finally returned, Power Girl was almost happy to see him. The door handled rattled, and the door opened a crack, allow light from the outside to enter the room for the first time in a long while. She lifted her head up weakly to watch the man as he came in. The man smiled with satisfaction as he inspected the debilitated super heroine lying spread-eagled before him. She could not even rattle her chains with any vigour, but could only writhe feebly in her shackles.

The man went over to Power Girl's head, and knelt down. He unknotted the gag and pulled out the ribbon of fabric. This allowed the captive to close her mouth, relaxing her aching jaw.

"Do you want a drink, slave?" the man demanded to know.

Before she could help herself, her reply was already out of her mouth, "Yes ... yes ..."

"Yes, what?" the man demanded, slapping Power Girl across her right cheek.

"Yes ... yes, master!" Power Girl croaked with her dry mouth.

"What, no defiance?" the man asked, mocking the collapse of her resistance. Power Girl blushed again. She had said it almost as an animal reaction, but the man was right, the defiance had gone out of her. But before she could say anything more, the man took another gag ready, this time a rubber gag shaped in the form of a penis. He stuffed its white rubber body into her mouth, its shank protruding about an inch beyond her lips. The shank was fitted with a steel washer. A rubber pad was fitted to this steel ring by rivets on the circumference of the washer. This pad covered her mouth completely. A pair of rubber straps were fitted to the sides of the pad, and the man pulled these straps down under her neck, and secured them together with the buckle and strap fitted to their ends. When this was done, he went out of the cell. When he returned, he was holding a white plastic bottle in his hand. The bottle had a long rubber tube that ran through its cap down into its inside, which was filled with a brown liquid. He took the other end of the tube, and inserted it into a steel tube inserted into the shank of the penis gag in Power Girl's mouth. He squeezed the bottle until the brown liquid entered the tube and snaked its way up it into her gag. Then Power Girl tasted the liquid as it squirted into her mouth. It was foul tasting, a mixture of the saltiness of sweat and bitterness. But it was liquid, and it eased her thirst.

The man placed the bottle next to Power Girl on the bed frame and took off his pants and climbed onto the bed frame. He sat down onto Power Girl's flat stomach. His penis was already hardening and lengthening before him. He grabbed her large breasts and encompassed his shaft with them.

"Suck bitch!" the man ordered, "You have until I finish breast fucking you."

With those words, the man began to rub his penis with Power Girl's ample breasts. The captive immediately began to suck as the man rocked back and forth on her stomach, kneading her breasts. She could feel herself beginning to respond to the manipulations of her breasts, which she tried to ignore the best she could as she sucked as quickly as she could. Then, the monsters within her came to live again, shaking her to the core, causing her to stop sucking for a brief moment, before resuming again with even more desperation.

The man kept using her breasts to pump his own cock. His expression told Power Girl that he was bringing himself to a climax. Then, suddenly, he jerked, and ejaculated his sperm from the penis between her breasts all over her chin. He sighed with satisfaction as his penis began to shrink. Then he reached down, and pulled the tube from her gag. There was still half a bottle of liquid left. As the tube was lifted away from her, Power Girl's eyes showed a mixture of frustration and pleading.

"Suck faster next time, slave." The man retorted, standing up. He turned and left her in her cell again. As the door slammed shut, the bulb began to dim again, before finally plunging the captive into darkness, leaving only the soft sobs of the slave.

+++++

Over the next few visits, Power Girl did learn to suck faster. Her tongue and lips reached new levels of competence as she pumped the rubber penis gag in her mouth, sucking the liquid in through the tube. She found that although the liquid tasted foul, it not only kept her partially hydrating, but satiated some of her hunger. She speculated that the brown juice was a liquid diet meant to keep her alive.

Always, when the man fed her, he would make use of her body in one way or the other. Sometimes he would breast fuck her, while others, he would use one of her lower tracts, removing the dildo or the butt-plug to gain access to her holes. With the latter in her, her anus was kept permanently open and welcome to penetration by the man. With her thighs kept open by the chains attached to her ankle shackles, she could not deny him access whenever he chose.

But the man had kept his visits few and far in between. Most of the time, she was kept in darkness and silence. Even the vibrations of the monsters had become increasingly infrequent. She found herself beginning to miss the vibrations, and would grind her hips in an effort to gain some sort of sensations or stimulations from the still monsters inside of her.

Soon, this grew into a need, a need that was increasingly unmet. It seemed to be a deliberate strategy by the man. But knowing this did not help Power Girl defend against its effect. She found herself beginning to long for the man's next visit, for her next rape. She found herself even grinding her hips into the man when he was raping her. When the man was gone, she was once more filled with shame and dismay at how low she had fallen.

To add to her degradation, Power Girl's cell was becoming increasingly filthy. With her permanently spread-eagled, she could not go to one corner to relief herself. While the liquid diet generated no shit, she still had to urinate, and the only way for her to do so was to do it where she was, flat on her back on the bed frame. The urine trickled out of her uterus, down her crotch and onto the floor. The cell was stinking from her dried urine. Yet, the man did not seem to be put off by this, and continued to use her body. In fact, the man seemed to enjoy keeping her in this disgusting situation.

This finally changed one day. Power Girl did not know how long it was into her captivity. She was unable to keep time, isolated as she was from the rhythms of the outside world. Her life now consisted of only one cycle, that of her feeding and rapes, followed by her isolation.

The man came back in, uncoiling a rubber hose as he entered. The hose had a nozzle at one end. He pressed the lever on the nozzle, and a jet of water shot out, hitting Power Girl in her crotch. Her hips bucked and she moaned as the cold water hit her, washing her down. He then played the jet of water up and down her body, wetting her white costume.

When he was done, the man stepped out of the cell again, pulling the hose behind him. He returned with a chrome steel folding stand, which he placed in front of her right thigh. There was a tray on top of the stand, and he took something out of it. Glancing down at it, Power Girl could see that it was a stainless steel piercing gun, like the one used to pierce holes in ears for earrings. He laid the gun next to her right hip, and took another object out from the tray.

It was a flat white paper package. Ripping one end open, he pulled a gauze pad from within it. The strong smell of medicinal alcohol filled the cell. The man bent down, and Power Girl felt the pad being applied to her vagina lips. The coolness of the alcohol penetrated the skin, numbing them.

The man laid the pad aside, and took up the piercing gun. Power Girl tried to see what he was doing, but the gun moved beyond her view. She felt her right vagina lip being pulled out. Then, there was the heavy clack of the gun mechanism being worked. She felt the dull pang from her vulva, and realized that her vagina lips were being pierced. The man kept working the gun and she realized that he must have made a row of holes down the vagina lip. Then he turned his attention to the other vagina lip.

When the man was done, he stood up and laid the piercing gun aside. He turned to the tray again, and picked up a steel split ring from it. He also took up what looked like a pair of pliers. He knelt down before her crotch again, and she could feel the skin of her right vagina lip being tugged at. She guessed that the ring was now being placed into one of the holes. When the man was done, he placed the pliers between her legs, and she saw him pressing the handles together. This must have been to close the split ring.

The man worked for some time, placing ring after ring into the holes in her vagina lips. Power Girl counted at least five rings on each of her vagina lips. As he worked, the anaesthetic effect of the alcohol began to wear off, and she could feel him threading the rings in before closing them.

When the man was done, he stood up, and picked up another white package. He opened it and took out another alcohol soaked pad. This time, he dabbed the alcohol on the nipples of her exposed breasts. He picked up the piercing gun, and with practiced ease, pierced both her nipples. She hardly felt a thing, but knew that they would soon hurt. Then, picking up two split rings, he placed a ring on each of her pierced nipple.

When the man was done, he went back to her crotch. He grasped the base of the butt-plug inserted into her anus and withdrew the monster, a motion that Power Girl had become familiar with. The sensation of her sphincter being stretched again as the monster came out, however was something she would always find uncomfortable.

The man casually dropped the rubber plug onto the floor. Next, he pulled out the dildo, and similarly discarded it with little ceremony. Now, he picked up a slightly curved steel shank from the tray. This was shorter but hardly thinner than the rubber dildo, but it had a steel ring at one end. The man aimed the other end at her vagina, and slipped the shank deep into her. She felt its cool steel snake into her, twisting and nestling into place inside her vagina.

Next, the man picked up a steel butt-plug from the tray. This, tool, had a steel ring at its base. Otherwise, it could almost be a replica of the rubber plug that had occupied her asshole for so long. The man inserted the plug into her with little difficulty, as her sphincter was now loosened, and her anus was still heavily lubricated.

The man took another item from the tray. It was a stainless steel shank. It had a hollow knob at one end, and an opening pierced in the other. The man knelt down before Power Girl's crotch, and she felt the man fed the tip of the shank through the first ring on her right vagina lip, the first one from the top. Then, he pulled the first ring on her left vagina lip, the second one from the top, and fed the shank through that as well. He worked his way down, pulling the rings from her right and left vagina lip. In between, he had fed the shank through the ring at the base of the steel dildo now inserted in her as well. He continued working until the shank was fed through all of the rings, closing her vagina lips over the base of the dildo. Finally the man fed the shank through the ring at the base of the butt-plug. He reached up and took a small padlock from the tray, and Power Girl could feel the shank of the lock being placed through the hole in the tip. Then, there was the decisive click of the shank being snap into place.

All that steel in her nether regions made Power Girl feel heavy there. She could feel the metal in her skin and tracts warming up now. The man stood up, picked up the tray and stand, and exited from the cell. When he returned, he bore two heavy chains. He round to Power Girl's right wrist, and released the snap hook from the shackle. He unlocked the padlock securing the shackle, but not for long. He fed the link on one end of the chain into the shank, and closed the padlock. Then he pulled the chain across her body, pulling her wrist, then her arm, and finally her body with it to her other wrist. Unlocking and locking the padlock, he secured the other end of the chain to the shackle.

The man took the other length of chain now, and went to her legs. He began with Power Girl's right leg, attaching one end of the chain to it, before pulling the chain across to her left ankle, and securing it. When he was done, Power Girl was free from the bed frame, but her wrists and ankles had been chained together. He pulled on the chain linking her wrists, forcing her to sit up. He now took a new padlock, and fitted its shank into the middle of the chains linking Power Girl's wrists. He pulled up the lock until it mated up to a D-ring riveted to the front of the collar around Power Girl's neck. When he locked it in place, the chain pulled up both her wrists such that they were suspended next to her heavy breasts.

"Get up, slave!" the man ordered. Power Girl moved gingerly to obey. If she had thought of it, she would probably have been surprised at the almost automatic way she was responding to his command, but she did not. She stood up awkwardly, unused to the sensation of standing, especially in the high-heel boots she was still wearing, nearly losing her balance before the man caught her. She then stood before him, her right leg bent slightly forward at the knee.

The man took something out of his pocket. It was a bell, and it rang as he shook it by the snap hook attached to the top of it. He placed the hook into the hole through the knob of the steel shank closing Power Girl's vagina lips. He then took another two bells, and attached them to the rings threaded through her nipples.

The man now took her leash chain, and yanked it, forcing Power Girl to walk forward. As she did so, the short chain linking her ankles restricted her movement. At the same time, the bell at her crotch and her nipples rang cheerfully with each of her movement. She had to shuffle her way out of her cell, into the chamber. The other women looked up at her as she filed out of her cell, her white costume now filthy, her hair a mess, and her breasts juggling. Power Girl blushed again as she was paraded past the other captives.

Power Girl was led out into the first chamber where she had been captured so many days before. More chains now dangled from the ceiling, as well as attached to iron rings on the floor, all fitted with snap-hooks at their ends. There was an area to the centre of the chamber, where a chest of steel drawers had been placed. Next to it was a spot surrounded by several video cameras mounted on tri-pods, aimed towards their middle. A video monitor had been set up on top of the drawers.

Power Girl was brought to the centre of the chamber. Her right wrist was lifted up and mated to a snap-hook dangling next to her, then her left wrist. The man knelt down and picked up one of the snap hooks attached by chain to the floor to her left and secured her left ankle shackle, and then repeated the process on her right ankle leaving her standing with her long legs open. Glancing to her side, she noticed for the first time that the video monitor displayed live images coming from the video cameras. They were of her in her bondage, helpless in the chains holding her spread open.

The man turned to the chest of drawers. He opened one of its drawers, and took out a stainless steel scalpel. He came over to the chained captive. He pulled the front of her costume out, and sliced through the material. He worked his way down her stomach with a steady motion, parting the white spandex with his blade. Then he pulled the right shoulder of her costume, and cut through the material, pulling out the sleeve from under her right glove when he came to its top, and continued cutting until the fabric tube opened up completely. Power Girl's white bodysuit peeled away from the right side of her body, hanging from the uncut portions to her left. The man remedied this in short order, cutting through the left sleeve, then the leg-holes, before finally cutting through the collar of the costume. The white spandex fell away from the captive's body onto the floor between her legs. And she got to witness every single moment of her stripping.

Power Girl still wore her cut bra and thong, although they did not cover any of her strategic parts now. The man cut these away as well, leaving the slave nude except for her boots.

"You won't need these any more. I've got something ... more comfortable" The man said, grinning as he flung the cut bra and panties aside. He reached up and unlocked the padlock holding up the chain linking her wrists from her collar, then went around Power Girl. She felt him undo the straps on the back of her collar, and felt it loosened around her neck. Then it came off, and the man dropped it on the floor, next to the remnants of her white body suit. He went back to the drawers, and picked up something from the second drawer. He returned and showed it to her. It was a steel collar, but of somewhat elaborate design. It was hinged at the back, its thick joint being held in place by an inch-thick steel pin. This portion is also higher than the sides of the collar, with the top curving down, and the bottom curving up towards the middle of each half of the collar. Then, once past this point, the top curved up slightly then forward to resemble a beak, while the bottom plunge down about three inches into a straight shank. The front was held closed by two padlocks, one near the top under the beak, while the other towards the bottom just above the tip of the shank. It looked uncomfortable in the extreme.

The man unlocked the two pad-locks holding the collar shut. Pocketing the padlocks, he hinged the collar open as he walked behind Power Girl. She felt him fit the cold steel to her neck, mounting it on her like a helmet. She felt its heavy weight press down on her shoulders. Then it was closed around her neck. It was a close fit, but not too tight. But Power Girl found that the design of the collar, with its beak now under her chin and its high back now pushing against the back of her neck, was such that it held her head immobile, and tilted slightly upwards. The man took out one of the collar's padlock and fitted it into the holes drilled through the inch-thick steel of the collar. When he closed the lock, this held the collar close around her throat.

The man went back to the drawers and came back with chromed steel shackles connected with two short lengths of chains. He came up to her, and lifted up the middle of the short chain to the bottom of her collar, at the point where holes were drilled into the shank for the second padlock. He used the second padlock to both lock the shank of the collar and the short chain to the shank of the collar. She could feel the heavy chains and shackles dragging down her collar.

Now, the man lifted up one of the shackles, the one to the right. He showed it to Power Girl. It was not locked closed like the others. Instead, a snap-hook was fitted through the holes on flanges on the tips of the ends of the hinged shackle. Removing this hook from one of the flanges allowed the man to hinge the shackle open. Then the purpose of the shackle became clear. He lifted up her heavy right breast in his hand, and placed the shackle around the fleshy mound at the point where it hung from her chest. Closing the shackle, he hooked the flange back in place. When the man let go of her breast, she could feel its weight resting on the shackle, and pulling down on the chain connected to her collar. The man turned to her left breast, and did the same thing.

The second chain was still dangling from the shackles in front of her, its ends attached to D-rings fitted to the pins in the hinges of the shackles by means of snap-hooks. Detaching one of the hooks, the man pulled the chain around the back of the enslaved super heroine, from her right side to her left side, and then attached it back in place again. This now held the steel shackles encircling her breasts in place against her chest, and helped to take some of the strain off her neck. Her breasts were now held up by the shackles and shaped into round semi-globes on her chest.

The man turned and went back to the drawers. He took out a short length of chain, again of chromed steel with snap-hooks at their ends. He went around Power Girl, and she felt him attached one end of the chain to the bottom of the back of her collar. There must be a ring or hole there for him to put the hook through for she felt the weight of the chain dangling down, pulling at the back of the collar. She then felt the other end of the chain being taken up, and pulled down. She felt its cold links against the cheeks of her buttocks, parting them and entering the crack between them. Then, she felt and heard the other snap-hook being applied to the ring at the bottom of her butt-plug. When the man released his hand, this caused the chain to drag the butt-plug back, jostling it within her rectum. She sucked her breath in at the sensation.

The man returned to the drawers and came back with another chain. This one went on the front, being attached to the same pad-lock as the chain now holding up her breasts. This chain dangled down towards her crotch. He pulled it down, and attached the snap-hook on the other end to the hole in the knob in the shank holding her vagina lips closed, replacing the bell, which he removed. Then he stood back and admired his handiwork.

Power Girl could see herself too, in the video monitor. Her breasts were now fully bound by steel shackles, and chains criss-crossed her body, all the way down to her crotch. She could feel the chains dragging up the steel shank there which caused the dildo within of her to inch up. The chains were also pulling at her butt-plug, forcing it deeper into her. As if this was not enough, her breasts were being squeezed at their roots. The weight of all that steel binding her added to her discomfort.

The man now went around behind Power Girl. She felt the buckle of the gag in her mouth being undone, and the gag was withdrawn from her mouth, allowing her to exercise her jaws for a few moments.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Power Girl asked weakly, her voice hoarse.

The man smiled as he turned and walked away.

"Why, you asked?" the man mused as he dropped the gag on the floor, and opened a third drawer, "Why, Power Girl? Or should I say Karen Starr?"

The man peered over his shoulder, and he could see that Power Girl was shaken by the man's knowledge of her secret identity.

"Do you really think that 'secret identity' of yours would work forever?" the man said as he took something out of the third drawer and came back towards her, "Once I learnt that StarrWare was launching a hostile take-over bid for my company, did you think I would not do research on you? It was only a matter of time before I discovered some coincidences, then some correlations, before finally confirmation of the fact that Karen Starr, and Power Girl were one and the same."

The man lifted up the object in his hand to the peak of the collar. It was a huge white rubber coated steel ball, mounted against the tip of a steel shank. Yanking back Power Girl's head, he stuffed the ball mercilessly into the jaws of the woman, forcing her jaws wider than any of her previous gags. When the ball was fully in, the shank it was mounted to touched the tip of the beak on her collar. At the bottom of the shank was a bracket that fitted over the tip of the beak. He pushed the bracket over the beak, and by means of a knobbed-screw fitted to the bottom of the bracket, secured the bracket to the beak. This in turn secured the shank on the collar, and the ball in Power Girl's mouth.

"Once I knew that you were Power Girl, the game became a little more interesting." The man said, as he stood back to admire his handiwork. Power Girl's jaws were stretched open fully by the ball now in her mouth, and her mouth could not cover the ball entirely, leaving her lips to encircle the white rubber ball.

"I began to lay a trap. I kidnapped all those girls as bait. I knew it would come to your attention. Then I went to your office to offer the lure. The rest is history.

"But back to your original question. Why?" the man mused, "Did you really think that you can just walk in and take over everything that I have built over the years? With my own money? My own sweat? Huh? Did you really think that YOU are so powerful, so potent, that you can just come in and defeat ME?"

As the man spoke, he became more and more animated.

"YOU! You are nothing but a bitch dressed in a slutty costume, exploiting your strength to beat up others.

"You know what you are? YOU ARE NOTHING! You're nothing but a cock teaser in cape. NOW I'VE REDUCED YOU TO WHAT YOU TRULY ARE! A SEX OBJECT! A SLAVE TO BE USED FOR MY PLEASURE!"

The man shook as he spoke. He grabbed the black remote control from his pocket, and mashed down the button on it. Instantly, the dildo and the butt-plug inside of Power Girl vibrated to life. Their powerful pulses sent shocks through her body.

"MMMMMMMPH! MMMMPH!" Power Girl moaned as the steel objects shook her to the core, stimulating her.

The man went up to the wall, and returned with a cat-o-nine-tails, made from braided leather, with long tentacles mounted to a long handle. Wielding it up, he landed the first blow across Power Girl's firm buttocks.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed into her gag as she bucked from the blow. Each of the tentacles stung her, biting into her skin, and impacting their own individual torment. The man lifted up the whip and swung again, again hitting her buttocks.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHH!" Power Girl screamed at the second blow, shaking at the stings of the blow.

The man wielded the whip again and again, landing the tentacles on Power Girl's buttocks. Each time he struck, she screamed helplessly into her ball gag, tagging helpless at the chain to get away. But she was held spread open, vulnerable. There was nothing she could do to get away.

When her buttocks were completely covered with welts, the man turned his attention to her shackled breasts. They were offered up to him before her chest, completely uncovered. The blows, if anything, were even more painful than those on her buttocks. Each tentacle left its own welt on her pale skin, and stung her, especially those that landed on her nipples.

But even as she was being ruthlessly punished, Power Girl felt the steel vibrators within her bringing her to a sexual climax. She did not know if this was only because of the ministrations of the dildo and the butt-plug, or whether it was her conditioning in the cell, but she was being aroused. She wanted to fight her sexual desire, but the pain from the blows mixed in with the increasing need within of her, denying her mind any defence as she began to juice. Then, as blow after blow landed on her breasts and buttocks, she climaxed, cumming her white juice out through the locked lips of her vagina. The juice came in such pulsed torrents that they flowed down her thighs and dripped onto the floor between her legs.

Power Girl moaned one last time, and then passed out.

+++++

When Power Girl recovered consciousness, she found that she had been moved. She was no longer in the first chamber, but in the second one. Instead of being in the isolation cell, she had been placed in one of the cells made of chain-link fencing, sandwiched between two cells with their own female captives.

Power Girl had been placed in a very uncomfortable bondage. She was on her knees and bent over, with her legs spread open behind her. Chains stapled to the floor were hooked to her ankle shackles to hold her legs open. Another chain stapled to the floor in front of her had been attached to the shank of her collar, holding her down in a bent over position, with her thighs straight up. The length was such that she could not pull herself up or back.

To prevent her from falling forward in this position, her arms had been pulled up and behind her along her body, such that they were now raised at an angle to the floor, pointing towards the top of the back wall at two points from which chains were attached by staples to the concrete. These chains stretched down and were attached to the wrist shackles of the captive.

To keep Power Girl's torso in position, the man had also attached chains to her breast shackles. These were attached to the floor on either side of her, and stretched up to be hooked into the rings on the hinges of her breast shackles. These chains kept her torso low over the floor, with her breasts hanging down under her. Any attempt to lift her body up would not only be stopped by the neck chain, but would also result in the chains attached to her breast shackles wrenching down on her breasts, a most uncomfortable experience.

And to keep her butt in an upraised position, another chain attached to the wall, lower and between the two chains holding Power Girl's arms up, stretched down and was attached to the ring at the base of her butt-plug. Any movement forward would result in a chain reaction with her butt-plug shoving around inside her rectum, and the shank closing her vagina lips being lifted up and back – thus pulling at the rings on her vagina lips. This brought both pain to her vagina lips and also pushed the dildo even deeper into her.

This web of chains was such that Power Girl had to remain as still as possible if she was not to cause any discomfort to any part of her body. This imposition was a torment in itself.

In the days that followed, an extra dimension to her imprisonment became apparent. After waiting for a long time in her position, the man had finally come to her. He pushed a low trolley into her cell, on top of which was a tray with a plate of wet brown stew. She did not know what it was, but it was hot, and the salty smell assaulted her nostrils. Suddenly, she felt ravenous.

"Do you want to feed?" the man asked. Power Girl nodded as eagerly as her collar would allow. The man knelt down and removed the ball-gag in her mouth, and placed it next to the plate. But before he pushed the trolley in reach of her mouth, he stood up and went round behind her. He opened the padlock at the end of the shank, and pulled it out from the rings in her vagina lips. Then he pulled out the dildo from within her.

The man stood up and came round to the front. He pushed the trolley forward until the plate was just beneath Power Girl's face.

"Eat!" the man ordered. Power Girl plunged her face into the goo, and began to lap up the food with her tongue. The food tasted funny, and she briefly wondered if she was being fed dog food, but her hunger overcame any reservation, and she ate.

Then Power Girl felt herself being penetrated from behind. She lifted her head out of the food for a moment as she felt the man's manhood entered her. Then he began to pump his cock in and out of her, rocking her body and her breasts with each motion.

"You have until I stop fucking you to eat!" the man warned. Power Girl moaned for a moment at the feeling of being fucked, and then quickly returned to her food, eating as quickly as she could.

When the man was done, he locked up her vagina again, and removed the food trolley. Using a plastic squeeze bottle, he rinsed out her mouth before putting the ball-gag back in place again, screwing it into position.

This continued for a few times. Power Girl did not know if she was being fed once daily, more than that, or less than that. She noticed that the other women were also fed infrequently, but none of them were in as stringent a bondage position as she was. None of them were raped whenever they were fed either, as she was, although now and again, one or another would be removed and brought out of the chamber, only to return with wetness between their legs. Only Power Girl seemed to get the close attention the man was giving.

As time passed, Power Girl began to feel a familiar need. The meals, while still watery, now contained enough solid substance to generate waste. This was now accumulating inside of her, and she began to feel the pressure building up. With the butt-plug inserted into her, and in her awkward position, there was no way she could dump the load. With each feeding, Power Girl felt more and more desperate.

Finally, at one of the feedings, she spoke up.

"Please ... please ... I need to shit." Power Girl pleaded.

"Please, what?" the man demanded.

"Please master." Power Girl said, shame-faced. She had finally said it, said that word that confirmed her actual status. She was the slave to her master.

The man smiled at his victory. He knelt down and released the chains holding her collar and her breast shackles down, allowing her to raise her body up. He then went round to her back, and unlocked the shank from the base of the butt-plug. Pulling on the chain linking the butt-plug to the wall behind her, he yanked the plug out.

"Arrrgh!" Power Girl breathed as the monster slipped out of her. Then, she lowered her buttocks, and exerted herself.

When Power Girl was finally done, the man went out of the cell, and returned with a hose.

"My, how filthy you are." The man said as he sprayed the waste away into a drain. Then he used the spray to clean out her asshole. She shuddered as the powerful jet played on her loose anus. When he was done, she was re-plugged, and then put back in her position again.

In this way, Power Girl passed her days. She had already lost all consciousness of time. She had absolutely no idea how long she had been a prisoner of the man. Any memory of her days of freedom now merely surfaced as dreams in her fitful sleep, only for her to be cruelly reminded of her slave status when she awoke. This was too painful, and she chose to suppress memory of her freedom and accept her slavery as best as she could. She was now completely at the mercy of the man, and he could use her as he saw fit.

Finally, after what seemed like months, Power Girl was released from her cell and anchoring chains. She stood up clumsily after such a long lack of exercise. The man led her out of chamber. He had attached a thin leash chain to the shank closing her vagina lips, something which he really did not need as she obeyed his commands without hesitation now. She was led back to the first chamber, which had again been modified. Now, gym equipment had been set up.

"You will need exercise to put you back in shape." The man explained as Power Girl was led up to a running mill, "I want you to be in the best possible condition when you're displayed."

Power Girl mauled over the word 'displayed' as she was led up onto the rubber running track of the mill. What did he mean? She did not have long to muse as the man now attached the other end of the leash chain to a hook on the body of the running mill. There were two other thin chains with hooks on the control panel of the mill, and these were taken up and attached to the rings in her nipples. There was no need for any explanation as to what would happen if she were to be too slow. Any retrograde movement will mean a painful tug in any of her sensitive regions – or all three.

The man started the machine. At first, he set it at a gentle speed, allowing Power Girl to keep up with a gentle gait. She had to get used to the motion as she had not been allowed to walk for long in her long period of captivity. She found that the steel objects inserted into her lower tracts also imposed their own demands on the way she walked. They felt big and heavy in her as she took step after step. She had to sway her hips more, in order to reduce the pressure they imposed. She ended up walking like a cheap whore.

Then the man increased the speed. Power Girl had to quicken her step. The chains linking her ankle shackles prevented her from taking too big a step, so she had to quicken her pace. As she did so, her breasts began to bounce in front of her from the motion. Soon, she broke out into a sweat. As perspiration covered her body, she began to pant. Her heavy breasts were now pounding on her chest, adding to her discomfort.

Finally, after a while, she could no longer keep up, and she fell. She felt pierces of pains in her nipples and her vagina lips as she fell onto the rubber track, but the hooks on the leash chains gave way and the track stopped automatically to prevent any injury. The man came up to her, and pulled her up to a standing position.

"That was a terrible performance. You had better do better tomorrow." The man said. Then, she was returned to her cell. She found that the anchoring chains had been removed, and she was allowed to lay down to rest. Although she only had the cold concrete floor, and she was still heavily fettered by chains, this was the best rest she had in a long while.

The man began to feed Power Girl proper food after that. Nothing delicious, but actual pieces of meat or potatoes began to appear. She was also allowed a bowl of water to drink from. All of these were placed on the floor so that she had to sit on her knees and rest her hands on the floor, bending down like a dog to eat and drink. And, of course, when she needed to relief herself, she had to beg her master to allow her to do it, and clean her after.

After a while, the master would bring her out of the basement into the mansion. It was always at night, when no yellow solar radiation would fall on her body to energise her. Power Girl would be led up to the bed room, and her body would be used. The man used her now only in her lower tracts, but also in her mouth. However, the man seemed especially fascinated with using her heavy breasts, fucking her there the majority of the time. Sometimes, he would also bring her to the study, where she would be allowed to sit or lie next to the man while he worked at his desk or read in his armchair. It was on one of this occasions that she heard that his company was taking over StarrWare following the disappearance of its CEO. Power Girl/Karen Starr did not care. She had come to accept her position, and her former identity/identities were irrelevant to her.

The man would also put her on other gym equipment. All have been modified for his unique purposes. There was the weight machine, where the seat had been removed and replaced by steel frames that angled out from the frame of the machine. Power Girl's thighs would be strapped in place on the frame, and her ankles against the legs. Then, her vagina would be unlocked and opened, and the plug and dildo taken out. These were quickly replaced by a rubber dildo and a rubber plug mounted on the floor, rising up on shanks, penetrating her. Then, a small crocodile clip would be attached to her clitoris hood, touching her clit. Another two clips would be placed on her nipple rings. Finally, electrodes would be plastered on her buttocks and her breasts.

Power Girl found that she had to pump the iron on the machine at a certain rate. If she failed to do so, the consequences would be most uncomfortable. First, she would feel the jolts of electricity on her nipples and her clitoris coming from the crocodile clips. Then, the electrodes would throb to life. When they sparked, she felt exactly as if she had been whipped across her breasts and her buttocks. The longer she rested, the more severe the jolts and blows would be. So she had to keep exercising, and was allowed only brief periods of rest.

Time passed.

Power Girl's physique began to firm up. She had been fairly athletic in form before, but her prolonged captivity had ravaged her body, but her imposed exercise regime now returned her to form. Yet, she was never allowed any chance of escape, being always chained. Her gag rarely came out of her mouth, and her lower holes were usually plugged up. These were usually removed only when her master desired to use her body.

She began to spend more time in the mansion now, crawling on the floor next to her master like a pet dog. She was even allowed now to sleep at the foot of her master's bed, although his bed room windows were always kept shuttered to prevent any sunlight from coming in. Occasionally, capriciously and arbitrarily, her master would return her to some form of severe bondage, or throw her in the isolation cell, just to remind her of her status.

Breaking Powergirl

+++++

Power Girl woke up in her isolation cell. She moaned as all the aches of her body returned. She was suspended from the ceiling by means of two chains attached to her breast shackles. As these chains were shorter than those attached to her wrist shackles, her weight were effectively resting on the shackles around her breasts. They dug cruelly into her soft flesh. Her wrist shackles had been padlocked together behind her to prevent her from finding any way to lift her body up. Her ankle shackles had been attached together as well, and a small cannon ball hooked to them. This added to the downward pull on her breasts.

Power Girl did not know why the man was punishing her. In truth, he did not need any reason to do so. He could do it on a whim. Each time he did this, she understood that she was only his slave, and would always remain only his slave.

The handle outside the door to her isolation cell clanged loudly, and the door opened. Power Girl looked up pleadingly at the man as he entered.

"So, did we sleep well, slave?" the man asked. She nodded although she had a terrible night. The man smiled then went to the motor controls mounted on one of the walls of the cell. He lowered the chains that held Power Girl up by her breasts, allowing her to touch the floor. He then knelt down and released her ankle shackles from the cannon ball. Her ankles were still linked by the short chain, and there was no risk of her kicking him in the face.

Power Girl stood on the bare soles of her feet. At some point in the past, the man had removed her boots and her gloves, removing every last element of her costume. Her blonde hair, formerly cut in a bob, was now longer, cascading down from her head past her shoulders to gather on her back and her front. Her hair on the front could now cover her heavy breasts lifted up by her breast shackles.

The man reattached the short chain linking her wrist shackles and collar, before placing a chain leash to the front of Power Girl's collar, and led her out of the basement, climbing up the spiral stair case into the mansion. He led her to a large bathroom, one where he had used to wash her on a few previous occasions. She was familiar with the procedure by now. Chains dangled from the ceiling, which were secured to her wrist shackles after he had released them from behind her back. She put up no resistance as he raised her arms up, and hooked them in place. With the chain linking these shackles still attached to the front of her collar, it also held her steady.

Next to her on the marble tiled floor, on either side of her, were two chains attached to the floor by steel staples, with snap-hooks on the other end. These were attached to her ankle shackles, holding her legs spread open. Then the man knelt down and unlocked the shank holding her vagina shut, and withdrew it from the rings, after which he pulled out the butt-plug and dildo inside her.

The man, of course, did not deign to wash her himself. After he had secured her, two women came into the bathroom. They were dressed from head to toe in white latex. Every inch of their bodies were covered, even their eyes, over which a highly reflective lenses were fitted. Their hands were sealed inside mittens, and they wore high-heeled boots.

The two women stepped up to the spread-eagled slave, and began to wash her, using a shower head each, and sponges fitted to the palms of their mittens. Power Girl always marvelled at how skilfully the women would hold the various washing implements or bottles when they did not have any thumbs to use, and must curl their mittens around the handles or bottles to lift them up. A generous amount of shampoo, body wash and conditioner were used on her, and she was washed thoroughly from head to toe.

Power Girl always enjoyed the washes. It was one of the few luxuries that were allowed her, even though she was always firmly shackled when she was washed. She especially enjoyed it when the women washed her vagina and her asshole. When they were done, the women would take hair dryers, and played it up and down her body and hair to dry her thoroughly. Then, unusually, they put aside the cleaning implements, and picked up large pads. She could smell talcum powder as they approached. They began to powder her all over her body with the fine white dust.

The man returned, pushing a long chest of drawers set on coasters. This was also unusual. Usually she would be released and brought to wherever she was to spend the next few hours being raped or tormented. The change was probably related to her master's cryptic words about putting her on display. He brought the drawers to a spot next to her, and opened the top drawer.

Power Girl's master took out a piece of garment. From the way he lifted it, she guessed that it must be quite heavy. It was made from white latex. The man held it up for her to see. It took her a while to realize that the new garment resembled her old white bodysuit, now a distant memory. It had the same design, a bodysuit with long sleeves and a cleavage window. However, there were subtle differences. Looking at the waist of the costume, she realized that it was very slender, and curved in. Steel bones were inserted at regular intervals to give it a resemblance to a corset. There was no back zip. Instead, there was a long zip running from each side of the collar down the sleeve on that side, right to the tip. Another two zips ran from under each of the sleeve, down the armpit, down the waist to the leg opening.

Her master pulled back all the zip. Power Girl could see that the zips were opened ended ones, and can be taken apart to separate the two halves of the zip completely. This allowed the costume to open up into its front and back halves, connected only by the crotch piece. The man stepped up to the spread-eagled slave, and passed the costume between her legs, before lifting up the halves to her body. The two women who had washed Power Girl now stepped forward. Each of them grasped one half of the costume, and lifted it up, allowing the man to fit the ends of the zips at her waist together, and pull them up. As he pulled the zips up her waist, Power Girl could feel the corset constricting around her waist, squeezing the flesh in. The steel bones dug in uncomfortably at her side.

When her master reached her armpits, he pulled the zips along each of the sleeves. This did not fit the sleeves over her arms yet, as the top zips were still undone. He remedied this shortly. With the help of the women, he pulled the sleeves around her arms, and pulled up the zippers until they arrived at her throat. Unlike her actual costume, this latex version had only a low collar, but this fact was concealed by the fact that she still wore the steel collar around her neck.

The man stepped aside as one of the women now wheeled a standing mirror before Power Girl. She was astonished to see the effect the costume had on her. Her waist, already trim, had now been squeezed in further, exaggerating the effect of her hour glass figure. Her hips seem to swell out even more prominently from her sides. But the most dramatic effect was with her breasts. The corset around her waist had pushed them up and together to form a deep cleavage. The cleavage window left nothing to the imagination, for unlike her old costume, these revealed not just the cleavage, but the whole of her breasts, covering only enough of their bottoms and sides to boost their posture on her chest. Her two pink nipples with their rings were thrust out far in front of her. The white latex clung to her body like a second skin, adding glossiness to her body wherever it covered.

Her master now went back to the drawers. He took out a long boot from the second drawer. The boot filled the length of the drawer, and did not bend as he lifted it up. She saw that it was made of thick blue latex. It too had steel bones inserted into its length, which was what prevented its top from flopping down. The man unzipped the boot and passed it to one of the women. He knelt down and unlocked the padlock holding the shackle around Power Girl's right ankle. He took the boot from the woman, and fitted Power Girl's foot into it. Then he zipped up the boot along the inside of her leg, up to almost her crotch. The top of the boot covered almost her entire leg. Having put the boot on her, the man now shackled her right ankle again. Then he took out a second boot, and did the same with Power Girl's other leg.

Power Girl was now standing considerably taller than in her naked feet. The heavy latex of the boots squeezed her legs tightly, and she found that the steel bones in them prevented her from bending her knees much. To further restrict her mobility, the heels were at least six inches tall, which forced her to stand on her tip-toes at all times. But the effect of the heels could not be denied. It forced her to thrust her chest further forward and her ass back provocatively.

The man now took out a long glove from the third drawer. This was blue in colour as well. It too was reinforced with steel bones, but lighter and more flexible. Releasing her right arm, her master put the glove on Power Girl, and zipped it up. She found that her hand was forced into a fist by the stiffness of the mitten of the glove. There were no fingers and thumbs at all, and with her hand in a fist, she could not even use her fingers in the way the women who had washed her did. When the zip was fully done up, she found that the steel bones only allowed limited and sluggish movement in her arm. In any case, the man quickly shackled her wrist up. Then he repeated the process with her other arm.

Her master went back to the drawers, and took out a latex copy of the belt that Power Girl had worn. However, it was clear that this belt served a very different purpose. A white band of heavy latex was attached to the front of the belt, reaching down and back up to the rear of the belt. The crotch of this band was fitted with two round holds, reinforced by steel rings at their rims. The belt was held closed at the sides by steel rings through slots in metal tabs at the ends of the belt, and padlocked. She knew what it was – it was a chastity belt.

The man unlocked the padlocks and opened the belt. He knelt down, and pulled at a zip that Power Girl noticed only for the first time, located just above her crotch. This zip ran under her crotch back to a point just past her anus. Then the man placed the crotch band of the belt against her vulva, and then pulled up the top. The women helped him to mate up the steel rings and slots, and he padlocked the belt in place around Power Girl's waist. The crotch band of the chastity belt blended neatly against the white latex of her costume. She could feel the tension of the latex pressing up against the rings on her vagina lips.

The man bent down and adjusted the crotch piece until the holes were aligned with her anus and her vagina mouth. Then he stood up and went back to the drawers. This time, he took out a white rubber dildo and white butt-plug. Within a few short minutes, he had lubricated them and inserted them deep into Power Girl, pushing them in until their steel base snapped into the steel rings on the chastity belt, thus holding them in place.

To complete the costume, the man now produced a red latex cape from the last drawer. He placed it on her shoulders, and clipped it to her bodysuit by means of gold clasps over either shoulder. Unlike her previous cape, this one was very short, barely reaching the small of her back.

"We won't want that cape to cover such a fine ass, would we." The man said, laughing.

Power Girl was now released from the chains anchoring her in place. She was led by the leash chain out of the bathroom. She was brought to the ball room of the mansion. A stage had been set up on the far end. There a chrome steel structure on it and at first Power Girl thought that it was a sculpture, but when he brought her up the stage and marched her up to the frame, she understood that it had a different purpose.

The foot of the structure was bolted firmly into the top of the stage. Two steel tubes rose up from the ground up to around the height of Power Girl's waist. She was pushed in between the steel tubes, and she found that they flared away from one another as they rose up, such that they fit neatly against her hips. Below, at the point where they rose out of the stage, they were near enough to one another that they forced her ankles together. Curved tubes crossed the front of her legs, joining the two upright tubes together, one over her ankles, and one over her knees. These also prevented any forward movement of her legs. When her legs were put in position, she felt the man fit another two tubes, this time behind her, at the point of the two horizontal tubes. She felt the movement of the man turning screws to hold these tubes in position. Now, she could not move her legs at all.

The man now stood up and took the leash chain. He pulled it forward and down, forcing Power Girl to bend over. She found that there was a curved steel tube in front of her stomach, which forced her to lift her buttocks a little in order for her waist to bend over it. The two upright tubes curved forward to the horizontal at this point such that they support the sides of her torso, up to her shoulders, where they turned and joined one another just before the vertical shank of her steel collar. Her breasts fitted neatly between these two tubes. The man released her leash chain, and placed the vertical shank against the joint of the two tubes. There must be some sort of catch mechanism here, as she heard a distinctive click, and she could not lift up her neck anymore. Her collar was now attached to the frame, forcing her into a bent forward position, her torso almost horizontal to the floor.

Two more tubes had been wielded to the vertical tubes at the point where Power Girl's shoulders rested on the steel. They rose up at an angle over her shoulder, up and over her back. The man now released the chain linking her wrists to her collar. He pulled up her right wrist, and pulled it along the tubes. She felt the stiffness of the steel through the latex of her sleeve and glove. There was another click, and she could not pull down her arms anymore. There was another catch at the end of the tube to hold her wrist shackle. The same was done for her left arm.

Power Girl was now held in a bent over position with her arms lifted high up into the air. In a way, her position was like that of the mascot on the hood of a Rolls-Royce car.

The man came around to the front of the captive. He unlocked and removed all the chains binding her, which were unnecessary now. She could not move at all. Finally, he also unlocked and removed the breast shackles and their chains. But if Power Girl thought that the man was going to leave her breasts alone, she was mistaken. He walked away and soon returned with a steel frame constructed from two steel tubes. These were bent at two spots, such that when they mated up together, they formed a horizontal eight. The two tubes were hinged together at one end, and screwed in place at the other. The man loosed the screw and separated the tubes slightly. Then he placed the tubes over Power Girl's low hanging breasts, and screwed it shut. Using more knob screws, he then secured the breast press into the frames now holding Power Girl upright.

Power Girl moaned at the discomfort of her position. But the man was not done with her yet. He reached down and unscrewed the ball gag from the beak of the collar. He pocketed it, and took out a new implement from behind him. It looked like a curved hair band, but made of steel. It had a hole in its centre, the rim of which was fitted with a short tube, coated with white rubber. He placed the plate against the mouth of his captive. She opened her mouth to accept the tube between her teeth without complaint, and he slipped the bottom of the plate against the bottom of the collar. Then, using a knob screw, he secured it in place. Power Girl's mouth was now kept open by the tube.

"There, I think we're read for the party now." The man said, smiling.

+++++

It was a long night. The evening started off with the arrival of the guests. Power Girl could only hear but not see them, as she was shielded from view by a heavy velvet curtain surrounding the stage. She could only listen to the muffled sound of the guests talking excitedly but indistinctively to one another, before sitting down to dinner.

Finally, Power Girl could hear the voice of the man. He was making a short speech, followed by some applause. Then the curtains were pulled aside, and the bright light of the ball room flooded the space she was in. She found herself looking out at the assembled guests, all dressed in formal attire of tuxedoes and evening gowns. There weren't that many people, perhaps a couple of dozen. But she could immediately recognised some of the faces. Some of them were men and women that she had crossed in her business dealings.

The guests looked shocked, which quickly turned to glee and surprise.

"Hot damn! I knew Karen Starr disappeared mysteriously. I just didn't know you had her. Talk about taking out the competition." One of the men said.

"My, my, Karen Starr," a middle aged woman in a halter-top even gown grinned evilly, "Who would have thought that such an arrogant bitch would be reduced to this."

"Please, ladies and gentlemen," her master said, clearly proud of himself, "This is not all. Perhaps you recognise the costume she is wearing?"

There was a moment of puzzled discussion amongst the guests. Suddenly one of them spoke up. She glanced at the man and her blood turned cold when she recognised him as a drug dealer she had helped put away.

"It's Power Girl's costume! But that would mean ..."

"Yes, Power Girl IS Karen Starr."

"Talk about two-in-one deal!" a fat man said, staring at her with ill concealed lust, "You get both Karen Starr and Power Girl! My, look at those tits!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the man continued, "You've all been exploited or harmed by this bitch in one way or the other in your past. Mostly by her Karen Starr disguise. But some of you had also had your ... uhm ... extralegal enterprises ruined by this bitch as Power Girl. Now, I invite you to take your revenge."

The man walked round to behind Power Girl. He grasped the base of the butt-plug and dildo. Without ceremony, he yanked them out.

"This slave's mouth, asshole and cunt are now available for all who wants them!"

Power Girl's eyes widened in horror as the assembled men and women lost all dignity as they scrambled up towards the stage. The men were already loosening their pants as they came up from behind her. One of the women joined in as well. She planted herself in front of Power Girl's face, and lifted up her skirt. She then pulled down her panties and bent over.

"Lick me, slave!" She ordered.

The evening turned into a blur of penetration after penetration. She even had to service the women with her tongue. Should they not be satisfied, they had permission from her master to torment her hanging breasts and her buttocks with small cat-o-nine-tails provided by her master. For those female guests who wished, there were strapped-on dildos which they could use to fuck her cunt or asshole. It was humiliation after humiliation and indignity after indignity. From her bent-over position, there was nothing she could do to prevent her tormentors from taking her in every hole. When the evening finally wound down, her mouth, asshole and cunt were stained with cum and semen. She was reduced to a sobbing mess, her mind torn by the repeated cruel assaults. Finally, mercifully, she lost consciousness as her mind switched off to save itself from insanity.

+++++

Power Girl regained consciousness she found that she was still in the ball room, but now it was empty. Everyone was gone, and everything had been cleaned up. Even the stage had been cleared away. She found that the steel frame she had been bound to was actually mounted on a pedestal in the shape of a column. She was mounted on it like some sort of statue. This was probably precisely what her master had intended. She was to be displayed like a statue, like one of those mounted trophies that some hunters love to display, except that in this case, the trophy was a capture super heroine.

Power Girl was left in this position for much of the day. She could tell because unlike the places where she had been kept, the ball-room had windows high in the domed ceiling, and a circular skylight pierced into the centre. When she awoke, she could tell that it was almost noon by how the circle of light was almost in the centre of the ballroom.

For a moment, a wild hope had entered Power Girl's mind that her captor had been careless enough to place her where the light of the sun might shine on her, its yellow solar energy rebuilding her strength again, but frustratingly, the circle of light danced around the floor without actually coming near her. This frustration translated into futile attempts on the former super heroine part to slip her fetters, and inch closer to the light. But, alas, she was held as firmly as she had always been since her capture. She finally had to give up in frustration, and eventually nodded off to sleep again.

Power Girl awoke when light landed on her face. She opened her eyes, startled. Could it be? She glanced up as far as her position would allow. Yes! Light WAS shining on her. It was not direct sunlight, but light reflected off one of the window panes. It had been left at such an angle that it reflected sunlight onto her. It was surely not what the man had intended. It was probably the case that no sun would ever shine directly at her through any of the windows. But this particular pane had been angled such that the evening light now reflected onto her.

The energy was weak, but the light began to energise Power Girl. She could feel her body beginning to respond. It was frustrating. If direct sunlight was shining on her, she would quickly regain her full powers in a few minutes, and break free. As it was, she had to wait while her body suck what little reflect solar energy it could. Her mind was wild with both hope and fear. Fear that the man would return at any moment and realize his mistake.

Power Girl struggled with her shackles. She pulled at them and pushed against the frame binding her. Slowly, at last, she could feel the metal begin to give. Her muscles were stronger now. She could feel it. They were nowhere near her full strength, but the metal was yielding. Then, suddenly, the snap attachment holding the shackle on her left wrist snapped, freeing it. In a few moments, she broke the catch holding up her right arm as well. She reached forward, and fiddled with the catch mechanism. Releasing the catch, she tried to rise. There was a pull at her breasts, and she realised that the breast press still held her mounds. But she was already growing stronger, and she pulled herself up, ignoring the pain as her breasts were yanked out of the press. Finally, she reached down, and pulled at the tubes binding her legs. What would have taken her but minutes to bend previously resisted her efforts for a while, but they too broke.

She was free! Power Girl was elated at the feeling of freedom for the first time. She was still wearing the fetish costume that the man had put on her, the dildo and butt-plug were still in her, and the shackles and collar were still on her, but she was free!

Power Girl experimented with levitating but found that this was still a little too much for her. She could hover, but when she tried to fly forward, she crashed to the floor.

Power Girl got up. She looked up and realized that the sunlight had stopped reflecting off the window pane. The orange rays coming in told her that the sun was setting below the horizon. She had to hurry to catch the rays. She climbed onto her feet, and stumbled towards the door of the ball room. The doors were unlocked, and she escaped into the hallway outside. She knew that the entrance was to her right. She stumbled towards it, her heels clicking noisily on the marble floor. She could only take small steps. Her legs were still being hobbled by the horrible boots, and the high heels were impossible to move fast in. Power Girl willed herself to move as far as she could towards the door.

Then she was at the door! Power Girl tried the door handle. It was locked. She exerted her strength, and the lock broke in her hand with a loud crack. She pushed against the door, and crashed through it. She stumbled into the outside of the mansion. Looking around, she saw that the sun had already sunk below the horizon. The orange light was already fading. She would have to escape with what energy she had left.

Power Girl turned and stumbled towards the forest she saw in the distance. In the distance, she could see the lights of a public road. Her boots dug into the loose gravel of the driveway as she tried to run. Her breasts bounced on her chest. She made a few hops in an attempt to fly, but each attempt ended in failure. She got up again each time, and ran some more, trying to get away before the man found out that she had escaped.

Then, she reached the trees! Power Girl was elated, but she knew that she had to put as much distance between herself and the mansion. She stumbled further into the forest, the butt-plug and dildo seeming to grow in size with every step she took. She had to get to the public road. That was her best chance. She had no illusion that she could be hunted down easily in her current state. At the road, she could flag down a passing car and ask for help.

Power Girl could almost see the road now. She stumbled towards it between the rows of trees. She was almost there ...

There was a gun shot. Something slapped into Power Girl's right buttock. The next thing she knew, she was jolted with a powerful electric shock. She grunted, and fell face first into the leaves.

"Get up! Get up!" Power Girl screamed silently to herself, but her body disobeyed her. Behind her, she could hear foot-steps approaching. Then she heard the familiar voice of the man.

"You will regret trying to escape, slave." The man said coldly. A chill went down Power Girl's spine.

+++++

After having any remaining yellow solar energy flashed out of her by the red solar energy lamps, Power Girl was dragged back into one of the isolation cells, the one in the middle. The man was completely merciless, pulling her by her long blonde hair. Her wrists were once more crossed behind her, and locked together, while her ankle shackles were now linked by a very short chain.

Power Girl was forced to stand in the centre of the cell. Her wrists were released, but then quickly secured again to chains dangling from the ceiling. Her ankles were then secured to the floor with her legs slightly open. Then he unlocked the chastity belt from around her waist, and allowed it to open and fall away from her body. As it did so, it dragged down on the dildo and butt-plug. The dildo came out partially, but the plug kept the whole ensemble from falling on the floor. This was fixed by a brutal yank at the plug.

The man disappeared from view for a moment, then returned, pushing a familiar set of drawers. Power Girl tried to see what it was he was doing. He took out a chrome steel tube and brought it up to her. Glancing down, she could see that it resembled a cane, with a hook at one end. The man turned the cane around such that the hook was now at the bottom. He walked up to Power Girl, and placed the tip of the hook against her vagina. The cold steel pierced her vagina mouth as he pulled up, and entered her. He kept pulling the hook deep into her until the top of the cane matched up the vertical shank of her collar. There was a hole through the shank of the cane at the top, and the man used a padlock to attach the cane to the collar, keeping the hook deep within Power Girl. Power Girl could only moan. Although an object had resided in her tunnel most of the time in her captivity, this one was pushing uncomfortably deep into her.

The man went back to the drawer, and returned with another cane. The hook was shorter and shallower in size compared to the first. The man went around her, and the next thing she knew, the cold tip of the hook had penetrated her loose sphincter and entered her anus. The steel went deep into her rectum as the man lifted the cane up and mated its tip to the back of the collar and padlocked it in place, causing an uncomfortable pressure there. She now had two hard hooks lodged deep into her.

The next item the man produced was the breast press. But unlike the one he had placed on her in the ball room, the curves to accommodate the breasts were much shallower. And when he came closer, she saw to her dismay that the inside of the curves had pointed teeth, like those on a gear. And instead of a hinge on one side, there were two long screws on both ends, closed by a winged nut on each. A catch on top of the press allowed it to be attached to the shank of the front cane, where it could still slide up and down. Then he placed her heavy breasts in between the two halves of the press. Once it was in place, the man began to tighten the screw. The jaws of the press were brought steadily together, crushing her breasts in between them. The man kept turning the screws even when Power Girl screamed in pain into her gag.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMPPHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed as the man tightened the screw until her breasts were squashed between the two halves, and lapped down to cover the lower half of the press. She could feel the teeth on the press biting into her soft mounds.

"That's right bitch. Suffer!" the man said.

The man now reached up and released Power Girl's right hand from the chain holding her shackle up. He pulled her arm down until her wrist was past her buttocks. At this point, there was a ring wielded to the shank of the cane inserted into her anus. A snap-hook had been attached to this ring. The man attached the pad-lock of her shackle to this hook. Then the man released her left arm and did the same with her left wrist. Power Girl found that this arrangement had the effect of pulling her arms back and down, and arching her torso forward, thrusting her chest out. This placed tremendous tension in her arms and lower back. If she wanted to relieve this tension, she had to pull up on the cane, which resulted in the hook penetrating deeper into her rectum.

The man now shoved Power Girl into a seated position. She moaned as she sat down on the hooks penetrating her nether tracts. He released her right ankle shackle, and folded up her right leg across her left thigh. Then he pressed her body forward down on the folded leg. She could not resist as he used a double-ended snap-hook to secure the shackle around her right ankle to the lower half of the breast press, over the ribs on her left. Then he pushed her onto her back and released her left ankle from the floor. Using another double-ended snap-hook, he folded her left leg under her right leg, and attached the shackle around her left ankle to the breast press, this time on her right.

Power Girl was now in a terrible position. The natural tendency for her legs to unfold now pulled at the lower half of the press. This caused the lower half to dig deeper into her heavy breasts, causing even more discomfort.

The man retrieved another object from the drawers. When he showed it to her, it looked like an iron mask. There were no eye-holes. It had two short hollow stubs that would enter its wearer's nostrils. There was a large black rubber-coated facsimile of a penis penetrating inwards where the mouth should be.

The man placed the mask next to her head and returned to the drawers. He took a roll of medical sticky tape. He stripped four pieces from the tape then returned to where his captive was. He pinched her right eyelid, and peeled it back up against skin over the top of the eye socket, just below the eyebrow. Using two pieces of tape, he anchored the eyelid in this position to the face. Then he did the same with the other eyes, leaving Power Girl staring helplessly, unable to close her eyes.

The man leaned down and unscrewed the curved mouth piece from the beak of his slave's collar. Then he fitted the mask over her beautiful face. She had to open her mouth to accept the penis as it penetrated her. The mask not only fitted over her face, but also over the crown of her head, as well as her chin and the beak of the collar. Once the man screwed the mask in place at the point of the chin, there was no danger the mask would fall off. The mask also came all the way around and covered her ears. She was instantly not only plunged into darkness but also partial silence.

For a moment, there was only the sound of Power Girl's own laboured breathing. Then she felt something being attached to the top half of her breast press, over the left and right. From the way the objects clicked, she guessed that they were snap-hooks. With this man, where there were snap-hooks, there would be chains. Sure enough, she could feel the hooks being pulled upwards, probably the chains attached to a motor. She moaned as she felt the tension increasing in her breasts. This turned into a muffled scream as she was hoisted up into the air, her body swinging by her breasts as she was lifted higher and higher into the air.

Then, there was another period of silence. Suddenly, light began to flicker in front of her face. At first Power Girl did not understand what was happening. Then she realized that small screens had been fitted to the eye pieces of the mask, a bit like a virtual reality visor. The flicker of lights solidified into images - images of herself, images of her being captured by the man, being bound, being stripped, being tormented, being abused, being raped, being humiliated. The man had videoed every step of her captivity!

Power Girl did not want to watch, but the tapes held up her eyelids, keeping her eyes open. Even if she were to roll her eye-balls, the screens before her eyes stretched around them. Everywhere she looked, she would see herself being used like a whore, accompanied by her own moans and gagged screams.

As videos after videos were shown, as her whole body ached with the pain and tension her bondage imposed on her, Power Girl began to add new gagged wails and screams to that being played over and over into her head.

+++++

The new gleaming white yacht slid gracefully through the bay, its sharp bow parting the blue waters as it moved steadily forward. On its deck, the familiar figure of its designer and builder could be seen at the helm.

The yacht was completing the final leg of an informal race, where the prize was pride rather than money. It was a race of yachts using alternative energy. Its competitors used anything from solar energy to new types of sails to propel themselves, but none of them could keep up with the speed of this man's vessel. When asked, the man would only say that he was using 'indirectly using solar energy'. Everyone was mystified as to what this could be, but he would not reveal any design details, saying that the technology was still very much in development, with patents pending. But there was no denying that the vessel had not taken on board any form of fuel as it sailed around the world, nor could any form of nuclear energy be detected. No sails were used, and the turning propellers could be plain for all to see in any water clear enough. Already, he was generating excited buzz amongst environmentalists that he might have found some wonderful new source of energy. The stocks of his company sky-rocketed on such speculations.

The man laughed to himself as he turned the helm as the city of Monte Carlo stretched ahead. If only they knew. If only they could peer into the engine compartment of his yacht. There they would find a woman, enmeshed and trapped in a gigantic machine.

They would find the woman spread-eagled, with her limbs fitted with heavy and thick shackles that covered her lower arms and legs completely. These shackles were fitted to a large frame by heavy steel bolts. This frame was not all of one piece. It consisted of two C's facing each other, forming an O. These C's were, in turn, articulated in the centre, allowing the top half and lower half to move. These halves, in turn, were attached to the bulkhead of the engine compartment. It was to the tips of these C's that the woman was fettered.

This arrangement allowed the woman to lower her arms and raise her legs along the axis of her body. This would in turn cause the articulated joints in the middle of the C's to move to and fro. This moved two rows of steel teeth, turned two shafts by means of a running gears fitted to the ends of the shafts. The other ends of the shafts were, of course, the propellers.

No ordinary mortal woman, could, of course, propel the yacht with her strength. The captive moving her limbs was, of course, the former super heroine that used to be known as Power Girl. But she had dropped from public view for so long, that her name was hardly remembered nowadays. The man, her master, had carefully worked out a way of exposing her just enough yellow solar energy through a series of lenses to energise her muscle. However, this did not allow her to gain enough strength to break free of the heavy fetters fitted to her limbs, or to break free of the frame she was riveted to.

The slave was completely naked, her heavy breasts dangling before her. Electrodes could be seen, attached to the two large glands, and to her vulva. Crocodile clips were attached to her clitoris hood and nipple ring. This was the means to force her to move her limbs. If she were to stop moving, she would be shocked in her nipples and clit by short sharp shocks. Through the electrodes, she would feel as if she was being ruthlessly whipped in her breasts and buttocks. If this was not enough encouragement, a long steel shafts penetrating deep into her vagina would raise up further. These steel shafts had pimples on them. When they begin spinning in her, they rub her sensitive insides until she was forced to comply.

The slave did not have to be taken out of the machine at all. She was wearing a steel helmet that covered her head completely. A tube ran through the point where her mouth should be. Underneath the helmet, her jaws were kept wide open by a rubber ball. The tube pierced through its centre, and entered into her throat. This tube went all the way down into her stomach, and allowed food to be pumped directly into her.

To remove any waste from inside her body, a butt-plug had been inserted into her. This had holes at the tip of its cone, which would allow any shit to be sucked out by vacuum, through a tube at the bottom of the plug, connected to a disposal tank beneath her. Similarly, a tube had been inserted into her urethra. This would drain any urine from within her, directly into the disposal tank.

The slave would not be allowed to do anything herself. She would not even eat and chew, nor shit and urine. Everything would be done by the machine that she had now become part of.

This would be a traumatic experience for any human. The meaninglessness of such an existence would have been too much. But the woman's mind was already blank. She had been conditioned well by the man's regime, with the last vestiges of identity and individuality driven out of her by her cruel treatment with the virtual reality helmet.

Power Girl was no more. Only an empty husk remained, powering the man's yacht as he helmed it across the seas.

The End


	4. Breaking Chun-Li

Breaking Chun Li

By Nimrod

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for." Said a disembodied voice over the loudspeakers, "Please put your hands together for the one and only female contestant to the tournament, the beautiful Chun Li!"

The crowd shouted and clapped excitedly in appreciation as the woman stepped into the large circle of light cast by the spotlights mounted high above the wooden platform. This circle of light was surrounded by a circular chain-link fence which served to separate the circle from the audience, who were seated in circular rows of seat, stacked one after and above the other towards the back to surround the circle of light.

The woman was Chinese with glossy black hair which she had braided into two pigtails, and then coiled up into two knots over the sides of her head, sort of like the famous cinnamon bun hairdo of Princess Leia in Star Wars. It might have looked slightly ridiculous on most other women, but seemed to match this woman perfectly, keeping her hair out of the way as she moved. It also framed her beautiful face.

The woman seemed to be in her late twenties. She had high cheekbones, which were rather unusual amongst Asians, as was the sharp pointed chin below her full sensuous lips, but her elfin nose and bright almond eyes were typical of the most beautiful features of Asian women.

The woman was also unusually tall for an Asian woman, being five foot eight inches in height. This height seemed to stretch out her body, making it slender in spite of her broad shoulders and wide hips. Her sleek body was shown off to advantage by what she wore - a blue lycra unitard which stretched over her torso and legs, over which she wore a mandarin-collared light blue vest with gold patterns over both of her breasts. This costume showed off her limbs, with her arms uncovered and the stretchy material of unitard stretched tight over her legs. The length of her limbs made them seemed slender in spite of the well-chiselled muscles on them.

The unitard also flowed smoothly over her trim waist, which showed neither a hint of love handles nor any loose flab on the abdomen, before stretching up over her breasts. The latter, though not large by western standards, would be considered prominent amongst Chinese women, and they rode high on the chest of the woman, restrained only by the sports bra she wore underneath. To complete the costume, the woman wore a pair of black leather bracelets on her wrists, which were studded with spikes, as well as a pair of white gym shoes on her feet.

As Chun Li walked up to the centre of the light, her opponent emerged into the light as well. He was a huge man, almost a head taller than her, and heavily muscled. He was wearing a pair of boxing shorts, and his hands were wrapped in boxing bandages to protect them. She had already seen him fight several other opponents, challengers to his position as king of the tournament, and he had demolished each and every one of them.

"And facing her is the mighty Mongo himself!" the announcer said over the loudspeaker, and the audience went even wilder, "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this will be a night to remember indeed."

"Contestants, are you ready?" said the voice.

Chun Li nodded, and lowered herself into the crouching stance, with her knees bent, and 70 percent of her body weight over her back leg while her front leg rested lightly on the ground before her. Her arms were raised before her slanted body.

"My, my, aren't you a looker." Mongo said as he leered down at her, "I'm going to enjoy laying my hands on you."

What have I gotten myself into, Chun Li mused to herself as she stared up at the lecherous eyes of the hulk before her.

+++++

A week ago

"Miss Chun, I'll get straight to the point." The man said as he moved his eyes up from the woman's breasts to meet Chun Li's, "We need your help."

Chun Li frowned a little at this. Ever since she retired from her undercover work with Interpol, she had wanted to stay away from such things. The last thing she expected was to be seated in the Interpol office in Hong Kong again after having left for so long. Facing her was a middle-aged man dressed in an ill-fitting suit.

"I'm sorry, but in case your file didn't tell you, I've retired." Chun Li said, nodding at the brown folder sitting on the man's desk.

"We know you received an invitation to an underground tournament..." the man began.

"Yes, the Kamonde in Tokyo." Chun Li said, getting a little annoyed, "And you probably also know that I declined the invitation. My tournament days are over, inspector."

"Yes, I know, but I hope you will reconsider and join the tournament." The inspector said, forming his fingers into a steeple before him as he spoke, "You see, we know the tournament is organised by the Ishiyada clan..."

"Yakuza. Yes. I know. Even if I'm still fighting tournaments, I won't have joined it." Chun Li said, crossing her legs. She was wearing a blue summer dress that flowed over her body, and covered her legs down to her knees. On her feet, she wore a pair of high-heeled sling-backs. Her hair was loose and tumbled down onto her shoulders.

"But you might not know that we suspect that the Ishiyada's are also involved in white slavery. They have been running a lucrative trade in abducting women from East Europe, Central Asia, even China and Japan, forcing them into white slavery and selling them to brothels throughout Asia and South America."

That did arouse Chun Li's interest, and she leaned forward.

"Yes, I thought that might interest you." The inspector said, "The Japanese police has amassed a lot of circumstantial evidence. But they have never been able to prosecute. No witnesses that come forward have survived – usually beaten to death. It didn't matter the protection provided. Somehow the Yakuza could penetrate the defences and get at the witnesses. The police had never been able to catch them red-handed either, by intercepting a shipment while it is in Japan. This is why they asked us for help."

"And what has this to do with the tournament?" Chun Li asked.

"The Japanese police has a rough idea where it's going to be held, at some warehouses owned by a front company of the Ishiyada clan. Based upon what little intelligence they have managed to dig up, this is also a major transit point for shipments of white slaves. They bring the girls there, and from there distribute them to interested buyers around the Pacific Rim.

"The problem for them is that they don't know precisely where the warehouse is. And even if they do, they can't raid it until they are sure that the girls are indeed being held there. If they moved too early, not only will they not be able to find the girls, they would give the whole game away, and make it even harder to catch the Ishiyada clan."

"So my participation at the tournament gives them a perfect opportunity to slip an undercover agent – me – into the venue." Chun Li said, completing the briefing for the inspector, "I suppose I'm supposed to snoop around during the tournament."

"Yes."

"OK. I agree. I'll do it."

+++++

Now, facing the two-hundred pound Mongo before her, Chun Li wondered if it had been such a good plan. Especially as the plan seemed to have miscarried.

Chun Li had been picked up by a limousine from her hotel in central Tokyo several hours before. The limousine had opaque windows which did not allow her to see where she was being brought. This did not matter as she was wearing a secret transmitter that she had been given by the Japanese police, hidden in one of her bracelets. The transmitter could be switched on or off in case she was scanned. So, at least the Japanese police knew where she was. She hoped.

When she arrived, Chun Li found that she had been brought to some docks along Tokyo Bay. She could see Tokyo city's lights in the distance. She could also see the hulk of a large freighter looming above the quay.

Chun Li had been ushered politely onto the ship, and brought to a cabin. Shortly after she arrived, the freighter weighed anchor, and began to move. It sailed for several hours, and Chun Li suspected that it had sailed into international waters.

This immediately presented two difficulties. First, the Japanese police was not prepared for the scenario where the fight take place at sea, much less on the open sea. They could, of course, contact the Japanese Maritime Self-Defence Force to intercept the freighter. Which leads to the second problem. Chun Li had not activated the transmitter. She had to be cautious as she did not know if she was being monitored for any signals. She had planned to do so only when she found the abducted women. Now the freighter had carried her beyond the range of the transmitter for any of the land-based receivers to detect. She was effectively alone.

This did concern Chun Li, but she was still confident in her own abilities. She had been in tough spots like this before, and had also worked alone undercover on several occasions, when she had to rely on her own wits and skills. During her most difficult assignment as an undercover agent when bringing down Bison's Shadoru, and she had done so without any access to help from her fellow police officers, although she have allies she could depend on. The current situation was no different.

Chun Li could do nothing for the time being, but to carry on with the tournament, and look for opportunities to investigate the freighter. The cabin she had been put in had a plasma TV, on which she could watch the match as she prepared herself. It was soon clear that the reigning champion, Mongo, would be her most formidable opponent. She watched as he proceeded to demolish several highly skilled opponents. Then, her Yakuza escorts returned. Apparently, it was her turn to face Mongo.

+++++

"Fight!" the disembodied voice screamed. Mongo immediately launched himself at her, but Chun Li had already moved aside. Stepping to her right, she tucked in her left leg.

Mongo was nimble for a man his size, and he was already beginning to turn, but he was completely unprepared for the flurry of kicks launched by the woman. Her leg seemed to be mechanical as it delivered repeated kicks at him.

"Urgh!" Mongo grunted as the first kick connected. He could feel one of his ribs crack, but he ignored the pain and used his beefy arms to shield the more vulnerable parts of his body from the blows. Then he launched an attack of his own. He lunged forward with his right knee, and then spun a kick into the woman's back, knocking her to the floor.

But before Mongo could follow up his attack, the woman had executed a break-fall, rolling forward and was on her feet again. She jumped into the air, and twisted her body around. One of her muscular legs curled in as she spun, and slammed into Mongo's left temple. The giant staggered to his side. Chun Li took advantage of his temporary disorientation, and delivered a series of side kicks into his exposed flank.

"UURGH!" Mongo grunted, and staggered a few steps more. He was clearly angry now. His face twisted into a rage-filled sneer. He opened up his arms and grabbed the woman before him before she could react. His huge arms crushed her arms and her torso together as he seemed intent on squeezing the life out of her.

"Ahh!" Chun Li grunted. She struggled as the arms continued to constrict around her. She cursed herself for her carelessness as she tried futilely to get out of the embrace. Nothing she did seem to help as she tried to knee and kick the giant holding her. Red spots began to appear before her eyes.

There was one last trick up her sleeve though. Chun Li writhed in the giant's embrace, and rubbed her breasts against Mongo. His eyes opened wide at the sensation, and for a moment, lust entered them. That was his final mistake. His arms loosened a little, and that was all Chun Li needed. She tucked up her legs under her, and pushed, forcing his arms open. As she fell backwards, she kicked her powerful right leg upwards into the air. Her heel connected with the giant's jaw.

The iron jaw, which had survived countless blows from other components, did not survive the blow from her powerful kick. Mongo staggered back for a moment, his body stumbling all over the arena before his eyes rolled up in their sockets, and he slammed onto the floor of the arena.

"And Chun Li wins by a knock-out!" the announcer screamed.

+++++

Chun Li was escorted out of the arena by a Japanese woman wearing a black PVC Playboy bunny suit, complete with white fluffy tail, black stockings and black high-heeled pumps. She wore the stiff white collar around her throat and cuffs around her wrists.

"Follow, please." The Playboy bunny had said, gesturing towards an exit from the arena, "Master would like to meet you."

Chun Li nodded. The arena was built in a cargo hold of the freighter, but from the size of the wooden structure, she guessed that it at most occupied half of the available cargo space. She suspected that there was more space where perhaps the abducted women were hidden. Perhaps this was her chance to explore more of the ship. She was followed as the bunny stepped through a hatch into another part of the ship.

Chun Li was led down a narrow corridor deep down in the ship. The corridor was guarded by Japanese men. From their belligerent standing stance, to their growling faces, to their well-cut but flashy suits, to hints of colourful tattoos on their bodies peeking out of their collars and cuffs, she guessed that they must be Yakuza gangsters. She also noted the strange bulges under their suits, most likely from short swords or guns tucked into their belts. They watched the Chinese woman sauntered pass them but made no move to stop her.

Finally, the Playboy bunny came to a hatch. It was opened as they approached.

"Enter, please." The bunny said, bowing and gesturing. Chun Li stepped through the hatch, and found herself in a well appointed cabin. The walls were covered by wooden panelling, and the floor was well carpeted. There was a plush sofa in the centre of the cabin, on top of which a middle-aged Japanese man sat. He was dressed in an expensive Italian suit, with black loafers, and an expensive black silk shirt. His greying hair had been combed back over his head. His eyes were cold as watched her enter. He was surrounded by more Yakuza gangsters.

The man stood up and walked over to Chun Li, extending his hand. She noticed that it was shrouded in a leather glove.

"My name is Ito Ishiyada." The man introduced himself. His English was perfect, with no trace of accent, very unusual for a Japanese, "Your fight was most impressive. Mongo was the best fighter in my stable, and you defeated him in five minutes.

The man paused for a moment, still holding Chun Li's hand.

"Of course, it is no more than we should expect from the Interpol agent who defeated my friend Bison and brought down Shadoru."

Chun Li felt her blood run cold, sensing danger. Her cover had been blown! But before she could react, she felt her body jolted by a powerful electric charge, coming from the gloved hand of the man standing before her. Her body convulsed as electricity ran through her body, scrambling the signals running through her nerve system.

"URGGH!" Chun Li grunted as she fell onto her knees.

"I had this glove specially made." Ito said, still holding her hand, "As you can tell, it has conductors sewn into it, connected to a Taser stun gun in my pocket. It'll defeat even a martial arts champion such as yourself."

Another surge of electricity entered Chun Li.

"URRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" the woman screamed again. As Ito released her hand, her weakened body slumped onto the carpeted flow on her side.

Ito turned his Yakuza henchmen and barked an order in Japanese. They came forward and picked up Chun Li, putting her arms into jujitsu locks. They dragged her out of the cabin through another hatch. When she raised her head with much difficulty, she saw that she had been brought into another cargo hold, this one filled with boxes on shelves. She was being dragged towards a nearby forklift to one side of the hold.

Chun Li tried to resist, but her body was still weak from the two Taser jolts delivered into her body. She was brought up to the forklift, before being turned around and forced to a kneeling position under the raised forks of the machine. Two of the Yakuza henchmen raised her wrists to allow their colleagues to use chains to secure them to the forks above her, with each of her wrists to a fork such that her arms were raised up and spread open above her. The thick chains were secured by heavy padlocks.

After her wrists were chained legs, the henchmen took hold of Chun Li's ankles, and pulled her legs apart and back, until her ankles were positioned against the vertical masts behind the carriage of the forks. They were secured in place with the same type of heavy chains that were now binding her wrists. Her shoes were then pulled off her feet.

When this was done, the forks were raised until she was lifted off the ground and stretched taut. The forklift had become an improvised rack. Chun Li's body was being pulled taut, with her body spread-eagled and tilted at an angle to the ground.

When this was done, one of the henchmen came forward with a big red rubber ball, at least two-inches in diameter, with a leather strap threaded through it. He took hold of Chun Li's black hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to part her jaws. He squeezed the ball unceremoniously between her slackened jaws, forcing the ball into her mouth. Then he took hold of the ends of the strap and pulled it around her face to the back of her head, where he buckled it tightly in place.

When the gangsters were done, they stepped aside and Chun Li could see Ito coming up to her. He was looking at her with undisguised glee and lust.

"How do you like this stretching exercise, bitch?" The man asked.

"MMMMMPH!" was all Chun Li could say. The rubber ball in her mouth left her petite jaws painfully wide open such. To add to the torment, the corners of which had been pulled uncomfortably back by the sturdy black leather strap of the gag. Both the size of the ball-gag and the pulling back of her mouth were causing her to start drooling heavily already.

Chun Li could only look at Ito with as much defiance as she muster as she pulled at the chains binding her. She knew that it was futile, as the chains were too strong for her to break. With the thick links of the chains biting into her wrists and ankles, they were wound too tightly for her to slip out of.

"Not tight enough, you say?" The man asked mockingly. He made a sign to a gangster standing next to the forklift. He pressed a button on the side of the forklift, and immediately, the forklift motor began to whine, and lifted up the forks. This stretched Chun Li even more tautly.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li moaned as she felt the tension in her shoulder and hip joints. She was fully stretched now, with her back arched, and her breasts pressing forward in front of her chest. As she writhed in agony, her breasts swung before her chest, drawing attention of the brute in front of her.

"My, my, what beautiful breasts you have there, bitch." Ito said, almost salivating at the sight of the juggling mounds, "They're much too nice to remain hidden."

The man reached up with his hands and grasped the front of Chun Li's vest. He ripped the vest apart along its front, yanking the mandarin buttons off their mooring along the edges of the front opening. This revealed the scoop-necked front of the blue lycra unitard underneath. There was nothing the warrior could do to stop him, bound as she was.

As Chun Li watched helplessly, one of the Yakuza gangsters handed Ito a switchblade knife. The man flicked the knife open and grabbed the neck of the unitard with his other hand. He pulled down savagely. The material stretched out, the neck opening yawning open to reveal the white sports bra Chun Li wore underneath. He then placed the sharp blade of the knife against the material, and ripped through the neck of the unitard. The fabric parted before the sharp blade, down the centre of the costume. The man kept cutting until the costume was ripped all the way down to Chun Li's crotch, revealing the white utilitarian sports panties she was wearing. When the man released the lycra, the torn material fell back to either side of her now exposed torso.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li protested into her gag, livid at how she was being exposed to the public view by her captor. She pulled at the chains binding her, but it was no use. Her gagged protests could not prevent what was going to happen next.

Ito smiled menacingly as he slipped the blade under the elastic chest band of her bra, under the deep cleavage formed by the way her breasts were pushed up and together by the bra cups. With a jerk, he cut through the fabric between her breasts, cutting the band and the cloth bridge joining the bra cups. The elastic material of the bra tug the cups back to the flanks of the woman. Unrestrained by the bra, her breasts fell free to swing under her chest. As the cold night air touched them, their light brown nipples began to harden and elongate.

"MMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li screamed into her gag, her face flashing crimson at the humiliation.

The man was not done yet. Turning his attention now to her right hip, the man slipped his knife into the right leg hole of Chun Li's panties. He cut upwards, slicing through the fabric until he reached the waist band of the panties. When he sliced through it, the panties sprung to the left and gathered around her left thigh, held up by the remnants of her unitard. With her legs spread open under her, her crotch, with its curly black pubic hair, was now exposed.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHH!" Chun Li grunted into her gag, as she pulled at her chains again in desperation.

"You are a fine specimen," The man said as he looked at the naked torso of the bound Chun Li. He reached up with his right hand, and cupped her left breast. She tried to jerk her torso away from his gasp, but she was too tautly spread-eagled for her to move far enough. He held on to her breast, and began to knead it.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li protested again with the usual futility. Ito, ignoring her protests, now reached in between her spread legs with his other hand. When she felt his rough fingers touched her vulva, she shuddered involuntarily at the sensation. Worse, he began to probe with his long fingers, pressing between her labia lips. She squirmed but could not get away as his fingers explored the sensitive flesh under the lips until they found the fleshy knob in front of her vagina opening. Then he began to rub it.

"MMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li screamed into her gag, but The man did not stop. He began to rub her clitoris harder and harder as his other hand squeezed and kneaded her right breast. And the man was not gentle with his touch as he molested her in her most vulnerable spots. Chun Li had never been handled so roughly like this before, but to her horror, her body was beginning to respond to the man's touch. She could feel her vagina begin to become wet as the man continued to play with her clitoris. Soon, this wetness became apparent to the man playing with her body without her permission.

"Hmmm. You are unusually receptive to a man's touch." The man mocked as he felt the wetness on his fingers. As he continued to play with her clitoris with his thumb, he placed to fingers through the mouth of her vagina. Chun Li bucked in her chains, but could do nothing as the man began to wriggle his fingers into her.

"MMMMMMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li moaned. She could feel the callus of his fingers rubbing against her vagina wall. The two digits were worming their way deep into her. Then, they began to rotate inside of her, sending shocks up her body, causing her to twist her body.

"Do you like that, slave?" The man asked. Chun Li wanted to shake her head in denial, but there was no denying the evidence of her body. Her nipples were becoming harder, and her cunt was becoming wetter. Her breathing became more and shallower as the man continued to play with her pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of her.

"No! No! No!" Chun Li screamed in her mind as her body ignored her and continued to get aroused by Ito's fingers. She could feel it becoming more and more excited, climbing up towards a climax. Suddenly, her body shuddered again, as she felt herself reached orgasm. Then, she hung down from her bonds, her body exhausted. A slow trickle of white liquid began to flow out of her vagina mouth.

Ito smiled as he withdrew his fingers from Chun Li's cunt. He wiped them clean on the fabric of the unitard on her right thigh, staining the blue fabric a darker shade as he did so.

"Yes, you will make an exceptionally fine sex slave with the proper training." The man said, his voice coldly professional, as if he was talking not about a human being, but a dog or a horse.

"But now, it's time to put you in something a little less comfortable." Ito said. He signalled to one of the Yakuza henchmen, who disappeared from Chun Li's view. He soon returned with coils of rough rope in his hand. The smell of hemp filled her nose as Ito took one of the coils from the henchman.

The man uncoiled the rope and doubled it to locate its middle. Then, he looped the doubled end of the rope over Chun Li's head and pulled the middle of the rope down against her neck. This left the two running ends of the rope falling to the ground on either side of her long neck. He picked up these running ends and began to tie them together with a series of knots. He about seven knots at various intervals, one below the other.

When Ito was done, he took hold of the lines of the rope, and pulled them up between her legs, placing the top four knots against the middle of her body, running down her torso between her breasts, down to her crotch. Reaching up, he fed the ends of the rope through the loop over the back of her neck. Pulling the ends down, he pulled two running ends taut against the soft smooth skin of the woman, now positioning the other three knots against her back, up from the crack of her buttocks, over her spine, before looping back down from her neck.

There was still much rope left in the man's hands. He pulled one end to the left, and the other to the right, round her flanks, just under her armpits, until they came round to her front. He took the line coming round from her left, and fed the end of the rope through the vertical lines on the front of her body, between the top two knots, at a point just over her breasts. He then took the line coming from her right armpit, and fed it through the vertical lines next to the first horizontal line.

When he reversed the direction of the running ends and pulled them back towards the left and right flanks of the helpless Chun Li, they pulled aside the vertical lines between the top two knots to form a diamond just above her cleavage.

Ito now looped the running ends around Chun Li's torso to her back. He now inserted the running ends through the vertical lines there, again between the top two knots. When he once again reversed the directions of the running ends, pulling to the left and right, they pulled the lines apart for form a second diamond, this time on her back, just below her shoulder blades.

Ito pulled the running ends to the front again. He repeated the process, now feeding the horizontal lines through the vertical lines between the second and third knots from the top. When he reversed the directions of the running ends, he formed a third diamond with the lines, this time below her cleavage, with the horizontal lines now running above and below her breasts.

The man pulled the running ends around her back again, and formed a fourth diamond between the second and third knots from the top, before pulling the running ends back round Chun Li's sides again, just above her rounded hips, to the front. He made a final diamond over her stomach between the third and fourth knot, tying the now short running ends to the vertical lines to do so.

Stepping back, Ito inspected his handiwork. Chun Li's torso was now criss-crossed by the rough lines of the hemp rope, forming a rope harness around her breasts and through her crotch. As the man made each of his diamonds down her front and back, as the vertical lines were spread apart to do so, the motion also lifted the lines over her crotch, tightening them against her vulva, until the lines parted her labia lips.

Chun Li moaned as she felt the lines rub against her clitoris. The lines were cut so deep into her crotch that they pushed their way into Chun Li's vagina, rubbing uncomfortably against the sensitive skin. Even more fiendishly, every breath she took would place tension through out the lines criss-crossing her body, causing the rope to tighten around her breasts and cunt. This tension was only alleviated somewhat when she exhaled, but would increase again when she took another breath. Thus, her own breathing was constantly causing her sensitive parts to be rubbed. It did not take her long to realize that her body was being kept aroused by this arrangement.

Ito now took another coil of rope and doubled it. He coiled the looped end around Chun Li's right thigh, just above her knee. Then he pulled the rope around to her left thigh. He pulled the lines back to the right thigh again before looping it around to the left.

Barking a curt order to one of his henchmen, Ito had him lower the forks Chun Li was chained to. This lowered her downwards and slackened her spread-eagle to the point where her legs were bent. Taking advantage of this slack, the man tightened the lines around her thighs. He pulled the coils tighter until her knees were forced together, although her ankles were still spread apart behind her, causing her to moan in agony.

Ignoring Chun Li, Ito tied the rope into place by inserting the lines between her thighs, above the lines around them. He then looped the lines down between her knees before inserting the ends through the lines between her thighs. He tied these lines together with a simple knot. It was only when her thighs were securely lashed together that the man signalled for Chun Li's ankles to be released. When this was done, the forks were raised again until she was forced to stand on her tip-toe.

At Ito's command, Chun Li's left wrist was unchained from the fork, leaving her to be secured by her right wrist. The forks were raised against slightly to add more tension to this asymmetrical arrangement to keep her off-balanced and unable to resist too much as her left arm was placed in a wrist lock and pulled to one side by one of the Yakuza henchmen. Another stepped forward and unbuckled her bracelet from her wrist.

When they were done, Ito took a third coil of rope, and doubled it. He then coiled the looped end of the doubled rope twice around Chun Li's wrist, before tucking the loop end under the lines. He then fed the running ends of the rope through the loop to form a hitch. When he tightened the arrangement, Chun Li's wrist was effectively trapped by the rope.

With the help of the henchman holding Chun Li's left wrist, Ito now folded her arm across her back, placing her wrist over her spine, just below her shoulder blades. He pulled the running ends round her right side to the front, under the breasts of the captive, before pulling it round her left flank, tucking the lines under her folded left arm. Reaching around behind her, he looped the running ends of the ropes under and over the horizontal lines coming from her bound left wrist. This reversed the direction of the running ends, and he brought them round to the front again, this time placing the lines over Chun Li's naked breasts.

Ito pulled the running ends to the back again, and looped them through the thickening nexus of lines next to her left wrist. He pulled the running ends up this time, over her left shoulder down diagonally to the horizontal lines above and below her breasts at a point just below her cleavage. He fed the running ends under both sets of lines, before looping the running ends up. He tucked the running ends under the first set of diagonal lines coming down over Chun Li's left shoulder, and pulled these lines diagonally up over her right shoulder. When he brought the running ends down to the nexus of lines over her back, he finally tied it off with a simple cow's hitch.

Ito now gave another command, and Chun Li was finally lowered until she could stand on her soles. Her right wrist was unchained and placed in a jujitsu wrist lock by a henchman. Her arm was then folded up behind her until her right wrist was place against her left. Ito used the remaining running ends of the rope to bind it in place to the nexus of lines on her back.

Chun Li was now very effectively bound indeed. She could hardly move her wrists, and any pull on the lines binding them would immediately transmit tension through out the entire rope, tightening the lines and constricting her breasts trapped between them. This added to the pressure that had already been placed on them by the rope harness tied around her body.

Ito now took the last coil of rope, doubled it and tied it to the second knot on the rope harness imprisoning Chun Li's torso, the one just under her cleavage. Then he tied the free ends of the rope together with a knot.

"Move!" The man commanded, yanking up on the short rope by the knotted end like a leash. Immediately, Chun Li felt the lines harnessing her body constrict sharply around her torso. The rough lines bit even deeper into her breasts and her crotch, placing a forward pressure on them. She wanted to resist, but she was forced to step in the direction of the tug to relieve the pressure on her sensitive parts.

Chun Li was led away from the forklift towards the shelves. Her naked breasts bounced between the lines binding them as she tried as best she could to keep up with the man, not an easy task with her thighs lashed together.

Chun Li was led between the shelves now. Turning her head, she saw that the face of each of the boxes were covered by chicken wire instead of wood. She was shocked to see that there was a woman in each of the boxes, behind the chicken wire. She had found the abducted women she was looking for.

The box was just large enough for the women in them to knee with their bodies bent forward, or to lie on their sides in a foetal position. All of the women were naked, and all of them wore rope harnesses like hers, with their wrists bound behind their backs in the same manner as she was. She began to understand that the routine Ito and his henchmen had went through in binding her was probably a practiced one, used to bind many hapless captives before her.

As Chun Li was led forward between the shelves, she could see that there women of different races imprisoned in the boxes. There were many European faces, possibly the East European women she had been told about. They were usually larger and taller, and thus seemed more cramped in their boxes. Others, the Asian women, tend to be smaller and seem to fit more comfortably in the boxes.

Chun Li wondered if she was destined for one of the boxes, but Ito led her beyond the shelves to a bulkhead. Here, a set of pipes ran across the ceiling of the cargo hold about eight to nine feet above the floor. She could see hooks wielded to the bulkhead at regular intervals. Various bondage implements were hung from them, including ropes, various types of gags, hoods and so on.

Ito led Chun Li to a spot just in front of the centre of the bulkhead under the pipes. A block and tackle had been chained to the pipes just above her head. The man kicked in Chun Li's knees, causing her to fall on them.

"Mmmph!" Chun Li grunted into her gag as she landed hard.

Leaving Chun Li on her knees, Ito went to her right. He picked up a long coil of hemp rope from one of the hooks wielded to the bulkhead and came back to the Chinese captive. He uncoiled the rope and doubled it before squatting down behind her, and lashing her ankles together with the looped end. This left a pair of long running ends, which he pulled up to the block and tackle. Feeding it through the pulleys of the block and tackle, the ends were then pulled out and down. As he did so, the rope lashed to Chun Li's ankles began to pull them up, threatening to unbalance her.

Ito held on to the running ends of the rope as he reached out to grasp the back of the lines criss-crossing Chun Li's torso. As he continued to pull down on the running ends, he tilted his captive's torso forward and gently lowered it to the floor. Then he continued to pull until first her legs, then her hips were lifted off the floor. Then, as he continued pulling, she was lifted entirely off the floor, swinging back to the centre. She was forced to tilt her head back to avoid hitting it on the floor. Ito kept pulling until her head was about a foot off the floor, before bringing the ends of the suspension rope over to the back wall, where he tied it to a steel bracket bolted to the bulkhead, keeping Chun Li suspended upside down. Her breasts squeezed out between the lines of the ropes binding them, hung downward from the force of gravity.

"Comfortable?" Ito asked.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" was the defiant reply he got.

The man laughed as he walked back to the bulkhead, but to Chun Li's left. As Chun Li's body rotated around, she could see the man. What he reached for sent chills up (or, rather, down) Chun Li's spine. It was a cat-o-nine-tails, made out of braided leather thongs. The nine tentacles of the whip were at least one-foot in length, at the end of a handle also about a foot long.

Ito came back to where Chun Li hung upside down. He grabbed her warm thighs to stop the rotation of her body, and pulled her body in against his own. She could feel the stiffening of his cock as it was pressed against her buttocks.

"How do you like the feel of rough leather?" Ito asked as he played the leather tentacles of the whip on his captive's breasts. She could feel the pricks of the rough edges of the braids of the leather. She knew that it would hurt.

Ito stepped back and swung back his right arm. When the whip landed on her buttocks, Chun Li felt as if the flesh had been set on fire. Her body bucked from the blow as she screamed into her ball-gag.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHH!"

"That was for Bison, bitch!" Ito said, his voice filled with hatred as he swung his arm back again. This time he aimed the blow at her breasts. The effect was the same. The whips stung her breasts, setting her nerves on fire as they landed. Red welts appeared on her mounds where they had landed, but the braids did not break the skin.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPHHHHH!" Chun Li screamed again as she swung wildly upside down.

"I hope it hurts, bitch," The man said under his breath, "That was for all the hard work and investments that went down the drain when you destroyed Shadoru."

He swung his whip again, hard against her buttocks, adding more red welts to the skin there. Chun Li bucked as the blow landed and screamed into her gag again.

"That's right, scream!" Ito said as he swung his whip for a fourth time, striking her breasts.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHH!" Chun Li screamed into her gag.

The next blow came with the same brutality as the others. And the next one too. Ito landed one blow after another. He continued as Chun Li screamed and screamed. He continued until she could scream no more and she hung in the ropes, exhausted.

The man was covered in sweat himself as he surveyed the wet body of the woman hanging before him. Her buttocks and breasts were completely criss-crossed with red welts. Her hair was wet with the perspiration that had flowed down her body. Her beautiful eyes were now half closed from the torment of her whipping and the exhaustion of her body.

"That will be it for the night, slut." Ito said as he returned the whip to the wall, "I suggest you get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another day."

+++++

"Wake up, slave!"

Chun Li opened her eyes. It took her a while to focus her vision and for her eyes to fall on the upside down view of Ito. She had spent her night hanging upside down for the night. It was a painful position for her ankles, where the rope suspended her from the block and tackle, but worse, in this position, the blood rushed down to her head, such that she felt as if someone was pounding in the sides of her head with a hammer. With the rough lines constantly kneading her breasts and chafing her cunt, she was also kept horny throughout the night, with her cunt remaining wet. Mercifully, her exhaustion from her traumatic capture, binding and then whipping had finally claimed her, and she had slipped into a fitful sleep.

Chun Li felt the rope holding her up being loosened, and then lowered. Someone took hold of her body and turned it such that as the rope was lowered further, she came to rest on her left side. Her ankles were now lowered all the way until her legs were folded back on the floor. Then her ankles were untied. Ito knelt down and took the leash rope still tied to her torso harness.

"Stand up!" Ito barked, tugging on the leash rope, constricting the rope harness around her body. Chun Li moaned in agony into her ball-gag, then climbed weakly up to a seated position, before struggling to rise to her feet. Ito had to pull hard on the rope to help lift her up.

Ito now went around behind Chun Li. He grabbed the rope that had been used to bind her ankles, still attached to the block and tackle above her, and tied it to the nexus of lines behind her back. He pulled down on the rope, which lifted up the Chinese slave once more, until she had to stand on her tip-toes. This put further compression on her breasts as the lines binding her wrists and breasts tightened.

"Mmmmmmph!" Chun Li moaned softly into her gag.

Ito ignored her as he took a fresh coil of rope from the bulkhead. As he uncoiled it, Chun Li, twisting her head back to see what he was doing, could see that this was a particularly long piece of rope. He doubled the rope, then doubled it again about a third of the way from the looped end, forming four lines and a double loop in his hands. He knelt down to the side of Chun Li and wrapped the double looped end around Chun Li's left ankle, then fed the running ends through the loops. He now had two sets of doubled running ends. The one that ended in the original loop was shorter than the other, which ended in a set of longer twin lines.

Ito took the twin lines. He knotted their ends together, and then threw it up over the pipe above Chun Li's head. The lines came back down to dangle at a level above her head, to her left. Ito took the lines, and pulled down. As he pulled, he hauled Chun Li's left leg up. The long limb rose he continued to pull down steadily, hand over hand. Chun Li was forced to tilt her body to the right to counter-balance her steadily rising left leg. This added tension to the ropes binding her torso, putting further squeeze to her breasts and vulva.

The man only stopped pulling when Chun Li's left leg was raised up about thirty degrees above the horizontal, with her toes pointing upward towards the left. He tied the ends of the lines to her ankles, with another cow hitch next to the first.

"You look so good with those high kicks of yours." Ito said as he came round to Chun Li's front, "I thought I should put you in that position on a more permanent basis."

Chun Li could only moan in the stressful position she had been placed in. Her body was almost horizontal to the ground. This in turn meant that it quickly became tiring stand only on her right leg. Not only that, it was straining even to try to keep her right leg straight. Soon, she had to bend her right leg to rest it, but this meant that much of her weight came to rest on the ropes binding her, causing them to bite further into her flesh.

But Ito was not done with her yet. He took the looped end of the rope binding her left leg, now dangling above the floor from her left ankle. He pulled it back to the lines binding her wrists and breasts. This forced Chun Li to fold her left leg back. The man tied the looped end to the horizontal lines on her left flank. When he released his grip, Chun Li's left leg straightened slightly. This pulled on the rope connecting her left ankle to the lines over and under her breasts, pulling them together, further constricting her breasts trapped between them.

"MMMMPH!" was all Chun Li could say.

"It'll be such a waste to have you tied up like this and do nothing with you." Ito said, smiling. Chun Li barely had time to contemplate the meaning of those words when the man tucked his fingers under the lines of the body harness binding her, just above the point where the lines disappeared into her wet pussy. He pulled down hard, constricting the body harness throughout the rest of the body, but relieving the pressure from Chun Li's cunt. When the wet lines emerged from her labia lips, Ito spread them and placed them against the sides of the swell of her vulva, so that they were pressed against the points where her thighs joined her crotch. This helped to squeeze out her vulva, making it even more swollen.

Ito now unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants. Chun Li understood what was going to happen, and she struggled with her ropes in a futile attempt to deny him as he pulled down his boxer shorts. His penis was already erecting and hardening. At the level at which he stood, the penis was aimed straight at her wet labia lips.

"MMMMMMPH!" Chun Li protested into her rubber gag, shaking her head vigorously.

"You will understand that you have no say in this." Ito said harshly as he took his penis and aimed it at her cunt. Then, Chun Li felt the warm flesh touch her labia lips, parted them, and entered her vagina.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHHHHH!" Chun Li screamed as tears welled up in her eyes. She was being raped, and in spite of her martial arts skills, there was nothing she could do to deny the man as he pushed his rod deep into her. She felt its heat in her tract as it slid in, expanding her vagina wall with its girth.

"MMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li moaned as the man began to pump her, moving his penis in and out of her. In spite of her humiliation, she could feel her body responding to his motion. She was beginning to breathe more shallowly, and she could feel her nipples hardening. She could not believe that her body was actually enjoying her rape. She realized that this was because her body had been kept under constant sexual tension by the bondage she had been placed in, which was fiendishly designed to touch all her sexually sensitive points to keep her aroused. Without any mechanical aid, her body had been well prepared to accept the penis of the man.

The man was working his hips hard now as he got into the rhythm. Chun Li could only continue to moan into her gag as her body shuddered from the jack hammer motion of the man pumping her. She could feel him approaching his climax. The powerful motion was also bringing her to her own climax. Both the rapist and the victim achieved release one after the other. Chun Li felt the man ejaculate into her, a hot flood against her inside, just before she herself convulsed and reached orgasm.

"MMMMMMMMMMPH!" Chun Li made one final gagged protest, in spite of the sex hungry response of her body, before she hung her head on her chest, sweat streaming down her face, both from shame and from exhaustion.

Ito sighed as he withdrew his shrinking penis from within Chun Li. He pulled up his shorts and his pants. As he zipped and buckled his pants, he stepped down from the platform.

"You will understand, of course, that this is only the beginning." The man said, coming round to the front of Chun Li, and pulling her head up by the point of her chin. Her eyes were half closed and unable to focus on him. He released her head to let it drop back on her chest as he turned to go. Then he stopped.

"My men have been lusting after you since you were first captured. I don't think I can deny them further."

Chun Li's head shot up at the man's words, her eyes filled with fear. She wriggled in her ropes, but this only caused her breasts to juggle. The Yakuza henchmen around her were already pulling down their pants as Ito walked away.

"MMMMMPH! MMMPH! MMMMPH!" Chun Li screamed into her rubber gag, shaking her head desperately as the men approached her, laughing.

+++++

Chun Li's life descended into hell over the next few days. She was kept in her asymmetric suspension, readily accessible by anyone who wanted to use her. And she was well used indeed by Ito and his men. She lost count of the number of times she was raped.

Chun Li was not even released from her position when her captors finally watered and fed her. Her ball-gag would be removed, and a squeeze bottle would be held up to her mouth, for her to drink through the sprout of the bottle. As for food, they would feed her brown sugar cubes. It was not enough, but at least it alleviated the hunger pangs for a while. Then the ball-gag would be replaced, and she would wait in dread for the next man to use her.

There was another dimension to her bondage. The water Chun Li took in soon turned into urine. Soon, her bladder was full. She was not released from her bondage to take a leak. She had to do it where she was, with her leg raised up like a bitch. She tried to hold it for as long as she could, but finally, she had to release the urine, shooting a steady stream of golden liquid out of her urethra onto the floor of the cargo hold. She was, of course, noticed by the Yakuza henchmen guarding her, who laughed and mocked her. She could only hang her head in shame. She was only thankful that her diet had not force her to defecate yet.

Chun Li had to sleep in this awkward position. Needless to say, the rest was fitful. She knew that this was a way of keeping her sleep deprived, which would make it easier to break her will. The same went for the humiliations and torments she was being put through. It was all part of a process in brainwashing. She knew that it would break the will of even the strongest individual. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Finally after what looked like weeks in this strenuous asymmetric suspension – probably in reality only a few days – Ito had returned to visit his prisoner again. By then, Chun Li was grimy and stained from the accumulation of perspiration, dried cum and sperm, as well as dirt from her prolonged bondage.

"What a mess you are." Ito had said disapprovingly, "It is time to put you into something more presentable."

Ito had used a knife to cut away the remnants of Chun Li's costume, cutting the fabric into pieces before tearing them away from her bound body to leave her completely nude. Chun Li had protested into her gag, but the man ignored her gagged pleas as usual. It was silly of her to protest, of course, since her costume had long ceased to cover her modesty, but this act of completely stripping away her costume only served to emphasize her lowly and helpless status as a sex slave.

Ito's henchmen had then taken two fire hoses and sprayed Chun Li's body with their powerful jets. Chun Li had screamed into her gag as the cold water hit her. The impact of the jets of water hitting her body felt as if two giant fists were pushing into her body, scouring away the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her body during her captivity. The gangsters seemed to take the greatest pleasure in playing the jets of water onto her exposed vulva and breasts, using them like giant fingers to probe and prod her sensitive regions. She could only moan as these parts were abused. When they were done, they had left Chun Li alone to dry out, with her left leg still raised obscenely high into the air, and her head hanging exhausted on her chest.

Ito returned after a few hours. He went to the bulkhead and took a new coil of rope. He doubled the rope, and then doubled the lines once more. He placed the doubled loops thus formed over Chun Li's neck, and then tied the lines together just in front of her throat. This left two pairs of lines dangling from her throat, one ending in a loop, the other ending with the ends of the rope.

Next, Ito went up to Chun Li's left leg, and untied the lines that were keeping it suspended from the pipe above. However, with the lines still binding the ankle to the lines around her breasts and wrists, she could not lower her leg fully. She could lower fold and lower her legs to her side to allow her torso to stand a little straighter on her right leg.

Ito took advantage of this. He tucked in Chun Li's left thigh to her chest, and tied it in place using one of the pair of lines dangling down from the Asian slave's throat. Only then did he untie the lines holding Chun Li's left ankle to her torso. She could now straighten her body but was left standing on one leg. This did not last long. Ito went over to Chun Li's right, and scooped her right leg up off the floor, and folded it up. Then using the free pair of lines dangling from her throat, he tied her right thigh up against her chest. Both her legs were now hung in front of her torso from her neck.

"MMMMMPH!" Chun Li moaned as the full weight of her body came to rest on the ropes binding her torso.

One of the gangsters now came forward with a pair of knee-high boots. They were made of white PVC, and had formidably high looking heels. Chun Li guessed that they must be at least six inches in height. Ito took one of the boots from his henchman, pulled down the zip, and fed his Chinese captive's left foot into the boot, and pulled up the zip. He took the other boot and similarly placed it on Chun Li's right leg.

Chun Li found that the boots held her feet pointed down at a steep angle. She could only imagine what it would be like to walk in the boots. She would be walking virtually on tip-toes. It would be almost impossible to move fast or fight in them. That was, perhaps, the intent.

Ito went back to the wall and took a fresh coil of rope, doubling it. He came back to Chun Li and bent down to her right. He coiled the looped end twice around her right ankle and made a hitch, before pulling the running ends around her right thigh and ankle several times. Tightening the lines, he tied the running ends to the lines now wrapped around her ankle and thigh, keeping her right leg folded. He went back to the wall and took a second coil of rope, and did the same thing with her left leg. Only when both her legs were frog-tied did he untie the lines holding them up on her chest, allowing her to lower her legs at last.

When this was done, Ito signalled to one of his henchmen, who released the lines keeping Chun Li suspended, and lowered her to the ground slowly until she was sitting on her heels on the floor. Another henchman then untied the rope that had kept her torso suspended for so long.

Ito now untied her right wrist from the lines binding her breasts and pulled them around to the front. She made little resistance as he coiled the loop end of the rope around her throat around that wrist, and tied it in place with a tight knot.

When this was done, Ito turned and began to unwind the rope that had bound Chun Li's breasts until her left wrist was finally released from the lines. Dropping the rope on the floor, Ito took her left wrist and used the lines dangling from her neck to bind it. The end result of this arrangement was Chun Li's wrists dangling from her neck slightly forward of and to the sides of her breasts, with her arms folded up and elbows thrusting back. She looked somewhat like a dog with its paws upraised. The length of the lines holding her wrists up were so short that, even if she had the strength or the will to resist, she could hardly strike out with her hands.

Chun Li's torso was still bound by the rope harness. Ito now knelt down and undid the knots holding the ends of the rope to the vertical lines coming down her front. Then he began to undo the rope harness until the lines were dangling free from her throat. He undid all the knots, and pulled the rope away from her body.

A gangster arrived at this point with a piece of folded garment in his hands. Ito took it and unfurled it. Chun Li's eyes widened when she recognised it. It was a version of her old costume, the cheongsam that she wore when she went undercover to bring down the Shadoru. The original costume was made of blue silk with gold embroideries on its front and sleeves. This one, however, was made from blue chiffon. The design of the costume itself was also quite different. It had no sleeves and back. It looked more like an apron with a high mandarin collar.

The man undid the mandarin buttons holding the back of the collar together, and pulled the garment around Chun Li's throat, with the rest of the garment handing down in front of her. When he had done up the buttons, he took the sides of the costume and pulled it against her nude torso. There was a broad white fabric belt around the waist of the costume. The man pulled one end of the belt round her left side, over her back to meet up with the other end of the belt over her left hip. This too was secured in place by mandarin buttons.

The dress now covered the front of Chun Li's torso. A panel on the back of the belt flowed down past her buttocks to gather on the ground behind her. On the front, another panel flowed down between her legs, covering her crotch to the floor. Otherwise, her body was uncovered. Her back was almost entirely bare down to her waist. Her thighs were similarly naked from the boots right up to the swell of her hips.

But even the parts which were covered, the translucent material cladding them did not leave much to the imagination. Chun Li's breasts with their nipples, as well as her crotch with her pubic hair, could still be clearly seen through the chiffon. Rather than dressed like a warrior that she was, she looked more like a cheap whore. If it had been humiliating hanging with her costume torn open, it was even worse when she was 'dressed' in this slutty outfit.

Ito stood back and looked at his handiwork. He was obviously satisfied.

"Now to complete the costume." Ito said as he took two white cloth pouches from his henchman. He placed them over Chun Li's hair buns, and closed their mouths by tightening the white ribbons threaded through their rim, leaving the ribbons to fall away from her hair to the sides of her head.

He now took a new coil of rope from the bulkhead and came back to the Chinese captive. He doubled the rope, and looped it around her waist, under the chiffon costume, and just under the white cloth belt. Lifting the front panel aside, he knotted the rope in place to form a belt. Then he pulled the running ends down to her crotch, and back between her legs. As he pulled up on the lines, they tightened against Chun Li's crotch.

Then, moving round to her back, Ito fed the running ends through the back of the rope belt around her waist, before tucking the ends under the white fabric belt. He pushed the ends up until he could grasp them above the belt, over Chun Li's back. He pulled the rest of the lines up until the rope was tightened further around Chun Li's crotch, before cleaving her labia lips and entering into her vulva, putting her pussy in bondage once more.

"Mmmmmmmph ...." Chun Li moaned softly.

The man pulled the running ends up to the middle of Chun Li's back, before pulling the lines under her right armpit, round to her front, over her breasts. He pulled the lines back to meet up with the lines coming up from her crotch and looped former set of lines back under the latter. He then reversed the direction of the running ends, pulled them under Chun Li's left armpit, and back round her front, this time under her breasts, to come back round by way of her right flank. Then he tied the ends of the lines to the nexus of lines over the middle of her back, knotting the lines in place. Her breasts and crotch were once again under bondage.

To complete the arrangement, Ito took a short rope and doubled it. He knotted the ends together, and hitched the looped end of the rope to the lines crossing above and under Chun Li's breasts. When he tightened the hitch, this brought the two sets of lines together, putting her breasts under compression.

"Mmmmmmmpppphhhh ..." Chun Li moaned again.

Ito took the leash rope now and pulled forward. This forced Chun Li to first lean her body forward, before she had to reach forward with her hands to touch the floor, and finally, as the man continued to pull forward and up, to rise up from her seated position onto the points of her knees. She was now standing on all fours like a dog.

"MMMPH!" Chun Li grunted in discomfort of the rough lines chafing her clitoris and the sensitive insides of her vulva.

Ito pulled on the leash rope once more, and forced Chun Li to crawl forward, with her arms bent and her torso tilted down and forward, on account of the shortness of the lines holding her wrists to her neck. It was a difficult posture with which to crawl, but the pressure on the rope binding her torso urged her onwards.

Chun Li was led through the cargo hold and out into a corridor like a dog, following behind Ito, her butt pointing up into the air and wriggling from side to side as she crawled. She had to spread her legs wide open to maintain her balance, and this exposed her crotch to the view of anyone following behind her, a particularly degrading situation.

After crawling for a while, Ito led Chun Li to a hatch, where a woman was waiting. Chun Li looked up to see the Japanese woman who had first led her into the trap, the one who had won the playboy bunny suit. She was now wearing a black strapless mini-dress instead that hardly restrained her breasts or covered her crotch. She had a draw-string pouch in her hand. Chun Li was brought to a stop in front of her, and forced to sit back on her heels. The woman took a lipstick from within the pouch, knelt down in front of Chun Li, and proceeded to paint her gagged lips a glossy bright red. Returning the lipstick to the pouch, she took out a mascara bottle, and unscrewed it. A thick mascara brush was attached to the cap, and she used it to brush Chun Li's eyelashes into thick curls. Finally, she used a brush to apply rogue powder to the captive's cheeks. The woman took a small mirror out of the bag now and showed Chun Li her own reflection. The slave was dismayed by what she saw. The make-up was grotesque, and made her looked even more like a whore.

Once this was done, Ito pulled back Chun Li's elbows until her wrists were tucked under her armpits, and she felt the man tie a piece of rope around her upper arms, just above her elbows, binding the latter close to one another. This also had the effect of forcing her to arch her body forward, pushing out her breasts in front, and her buttocks behind.

Then, taking the leash rope again, Ito led Chun Li through the hatch into bright lights. It took a while for Chun Li to realise that she had been brought back to the arena where she had fought so many nights ago. Once again, the arena was filled with people. They cheered as she was led to the centre of the spot-lit area, but this time instead of cheering her as a warrior, she was being cheered as an object of sexual slavery. Her naked body, although clad in a blue chiffon dress, could clearly be seen in the light. Not only was she dressed like a whore, but the way she was bound, and her high heeled boots, forced her to posture her body and walk like one, her firm buttocks wriggling behind her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ito said, speaking into a microphone that had been handed to him by a Yakuza gangster, "I promised you that there will be a rematch between Chun Li and Mongo. I will fulfil my promise."

The audience roared with approval. A hatch opposite the one through which Chun Li had been led through opened, and her eyes widened when she saw Mongo, the opponent that she had defeated walk into the arena. He was dressed almost exactly as he was that day, but around his ribs, he was wearing bandages. He leered at the sight of her bound body clad and an evil smile appeared on his face. Ito turned and untied the leash rope from Chun Li's chest, then he turned and left the arena.

Chun Li's mind raced as she tried to figure a way out. Her arms were bound and useless next to her body, and she was tottering on the impossibly high heels of her boots. To add to that, she had been starved and tortured over the past few days, and was not in any position to fight, much less as formidable an opponent as Mongo.

Sensing an easy kill, Mongo advanced towards Chun Li, who tried to back away. But when she backed into the chain-link fence surrounding the arena, she realized that there was no way out. She turned and ran as fast as she could past Mongo towards the other side.

Mongo was obviously enjoying the chase. In her heels, it was impossible for Chun Li to run fast. He could take his time with her. She would know that there's no way out. When she reached the other side of the arena, she turned with her back to the fence, the look of fear in her face. He smiled as he walked up to her.

"Here pussy, pussy," he said, smiling as he took step by step towards her. Chun Li pressed herself into the fence, as if she was trying to melt through the chain links.

Mongo was almost on top of Chun Li now. He was going to enjoy this. He planned to throw her to the ground and rape her then and there in public view. His boss had said he could. It was all part of the evening's entertainment. He would first take her in her cunt, then her ...

Mongo never noticed the booted right leg as it came up. The tip of the boot crashed into his balls. Pain shot up his spine. He stopped in his tracks, stunned. Chun Li, bracing herself against the fence for support launched a second kick, this time into his bandaged ribs. He felt and heard at least one cracked, and he gasped, the pain almost overwhelming him. He fell onto his knees in front of the bound Chun Li, his eyes resting on her magnificent breasts. That was the last thing he saw before Chun Li planted her left knee into his jaws. There was a sickening crack.

For a moment, Mongo seemed to just kneel there. Then his eyes rolled up in their sockets, and blood began to pour out of his nostrils. His body slowly slumped into the ground, motionless.

The audience gasped collectively. They were stunned at the unexpected development. Then Ito's voice pierced through the silence, giving hurried instructions in Japanese. One of the hatches into the arena opened and four Yakuza gangsters ran in. They tried to rush Chun Li, but the first one had his balls kicked in when he approached from her front. Another tried to step into his place, but his right knee was broken with a savage kick.

The other two gangsters tried to rush her at the same time, but Chun Li, bound as she was, slipped out of the grasps, and they crashed into one another. Chun Li tottered into the centre of the arena, and turned to face the other gangsters. The audience were cheering now, obviously enjoying this unequal contest.

The first gangster stood up, obviously incensed. He pulled a wakizashi, a Japanese short sword from a scabbard tucked into his belt. Uttering a war cry he rushed Chun Li, cutting savagely with his sword. Chun Li twisted, turned and bent down. The sword missed her back by mere inches, and instead sliced through the rope binding her elbows together. At the same time, Chun Li's extended left leg had entered into the path of the gangster, who promptly tripped over the leg, and slammed into the ground. He laid there motionless as Chun Li twisted her body down and grabbed his sword off the floor. A quick slice and the lines linking her left wrist to her throat were cut. She transferred the sword to her left hand and soon her right wrist was liberated.

Ito was shouting more instructions now, an edge of desperation entering his voice. The third and fourth gangsters rose to their feet, and turned towards Chun Li. They were wary now, and approached her slowly, now that she was armed and all her limbs were free. Her motion was still awkward given the high heels she wore. But that did not prevent her from taking the offense. A sudden lunge forward, and a flash of steel and one of the gangsters screamed and collapsed to the ground, his stomach cut open by the sharp blade. He had made the mistake of underestimating the reach of the woman. She had leaned down much further and moved much faster than he anticipated.

The fourth gangster looked down dumbly at his colleague, shocked at the sudden attack. Then he felt the blow as his neck was cut through by the blade, and he fell to the floor, mortally wounded.

Three more gangsters entered the arena now, but Chun Li had picked up a second sword from the fourth gangster's belt. The contest was a short and brutal one. Blood flew into the air to wet the floor of the arena, none of which were Chun Li's and she sliced and diced. It would have been easier if she was not wearing the high-heels, but her skills were of several levels higher than the gangsters' nonetheless. The first one had tried to cut down on her, but she sliced upwards through his arm, cutting it in half. Before he even fell to the ground, she had twisted away, spinning around to cut through the second gangster's side. When he too fell away screaming, she thrust upwards at the charging third gangster and pierced his brain through his chin.

The audience were becoming alarmed now. They realized that the woman, a bound sex slave only moments before, was now free, and had cut down the guards sent in to subdue her. As Chun Li bent down to unzip the boots, they began to rise in confusion to exit the arena.

Pulling off the boots, Chun Li picked up the two swords again and straightened up. She turned towards the hatch. Two gangsters entered, one with a sword, and the other with a gun. They were both too slow. Chun Li cut the gunman down first, before flicking the sword of the second away. In a moment, she had her own sword against the man's throat.

"Where is Ito!" Chun Li shouted.

"Deck!" the gangster said, terrified, "Boat! Escaping!"

Chun Li kicked the man's knees in and stamped down on his wrist, breaking it before she departed. She soon found a staircase which led her up to the deck. Here, members of the audience, dressed in tuxedoes and evening gowns were crowding the gunwales, trying to find some way to get off the ship. Chun Li looked around and saw that they were in the middle of the ocean. There would be no escape for them.

But Chun Li wasn't interested in the audience. She had spotted her prey. She saw Ito jumping onto a life-boat, helped by two of his gangsters. They were the only ones left. Ito saw her, and began to scream in terror at his men. They turned to see the Chinese warrior sauntering up to them, still in the translucent chiffon dress. But they were not seeing her nude body underneath now, or the rope still binding her breasts and crotch. They saw only the look of death in her eyes.

One tried to draw a pistol, but Chun Li threw one of her swords, which planted itself through his chest. He looked down at it for a moment, then fell aside. The other gangster took one look at his colleague, and fled, leaving Ito on the lifeboat.

Ito tried desperately to reach for something under his jacket. He fumbled, and something metallic fell onto the deck. As Chun Li got closer, she saw that it was a gun. He got off the lifeboat and tried to retrieve it from the deck, but Chun Li was on top of him in an instance. A powerful sidekick slammed him into the gunwale, and another kick landed in his jaw, knocking the man unconscious.

Chun Li would have killed him then and there. For a moment, as she stood over the man, she seemed to debate herself what to do. Then, she reached behind her back, and untied the knot holding up the lines around her torso. She let the lines fall away from her breasts, before reaching down to pull the rope off her crotch. Undoing the rope belt, she used the rope to hog-tie Ito.

Then Chun Li turned and walked towards the bridge of the ship, ignoring the terrified people trying to get off the ship. She knew that they would have no where to run. She was more interested now in finding something decent to wear, and to find the radio to call in the police.

THE END


	5. Breaking Vampirella

Breaking Vampirella

The limousine slid up to the front of the museum, and the valet stepped smartly forward to open the car door. A tall blond woman emerged from the car, and instantly all eyes were upon her. In her black PVC high-heeled boots, she was easily the tallest woman present. Her heavily stacked curvaceous body was covered in a small halter-top dress in deep maroon that hugged her figure tightly, showing off her firm buttocks, her narrow waist and her full bosom. As she walked up the long red carpet leading into the grey granite building, her body swayed ever so slightly to the motion of her walk, almost like the way a lion moves, the body seemingly relaxed and yet ever ready to pounce upon her prey.

As the woman entered the main exhibition hall of the Ancient Egypt exhibition, which had been turned into a ballroom for this fund raising night, the crowd seemed to part before her as she walked through the hall purposefully, almost as if she was aiming for someone. The object of her aim quickly became obvious as she came to a corner of the hall, near the main attraction of the exhition, a four thousand year old mummy of the Queen Nefertiti, which was dominated by a dark gentlemen clad in an impeccably white suit. He was tall, but not quite as tall as the woman, but his broad shoulders implied strength hidden by the suit. His face was Arabic in feature and finely chiselled with sharp upraised cheekbones and a sharp nose. He wore a beard and a moustache, both neatly combed. His black hair was sleek and neatly combed back. The way he talked showed that he was used to being in control and obeyed.

As if on cue, the man turned and rested his eyes on the new arrival. His eyes instantly lit up with a sort of savage thirst that the woman found, for a moment, disconcerting, as if he could see right through her. She recovered her poise and walked right up to him, and introduced herself. He returned the courtesy, and did not mention the fact that he was a Prince from a wealthy Gulf state, a fixture in the social scene in New York, and the generous sponsor of the exhibition. He left those bits up to his companion, the ever so accommodating and fawning CEO of the museum.

They danced, the Prince and the woman, all night, and as the evening wore on, and the other guests got more and more drunk, he had quietly proposed that they retire to the rear of the museum, where his host had so graciously prepared a room for use by the VIP. She had agreed and followed him. As they left the hall, a group of men followed at a discreet distance, forming a circle around the Prince. The bodyguards. But when they got to the room, they stayed outside, and only the Prince and the woman stepped in.

"Would you like more champagne?" the Prince asked, as he walked over to a drink cabinet.

"No thank you." The woman said, walking up towards the Prince. Her hips swayed with each move. She reached down to the hem of her dress, gripped it with both her hands, and lifted the hem up and over her head, and pulled the dress off her body, flinging it aside, exposing the fact that she wore a red PVC full body thong with a white collar underneath.

"Vampirella." The Prince said calmly as he lifted his champagne glass up to his lips.

Vampirella tore off the blond wig, and continued to walk towards the man, "You know my name then."

"Of course," the Prince said, backing away slowly but not in panic, "I paid good money for you to that foolish American. But I heard that he had met an unfortunate end. How did you track me down?"

"It was easy." Vampirella said, eyeing the Prince as he backed up against a wall, "All your emails to him were on the Cowboy's laptop. I simply asked someone I rescued for a favour to trace it back to you. And now, I'm going to tear you apart for what you had the Cowboy do to me."

The Prince laughed out loud at this, which stopped Vampirella for a moment. Suddenly, the wall behind the Prince seemed to give way to reveal a door. In a flash, the man disappeared through the doorway. Vampirella leapt forward quickly, determined not to let the man escape. She charged through the doorway into the darkness of the room next door.

Vampirella realised that it was a trap almost immediately as a nearly invisible line tripped her. She fell forward, and before she could regain her balance, she dropped face first into onto the floor. She landed on her hands and knees, and almost immediately felt a painful bite on her breasts. She looked down and saw to her horror that she had landed on top of several small sleek black snakes, all with wide open mouths and venom dripping from their sharp fangs. Several of them had immediately attacked her in self-defence. She got up to her feet and kicked the snakes aside, but the damage had already been done. Glancing down, she could see several pairs of holes on her mounds. She could feel the venom from the snake bites rushing through her body. She took a few steps, and fell onto her hands and knees, her body becoming numb as the toxin from the bits began to paralyze her.

"These are Arabian Desert Asps." A voice said. Vampirella raised her head with difficulty to see the Prince come up to her. She saw several men with him, carrying handles with small loops at their ends. These men began to round up the snakes until they have cleared a path for the Prince. He knelt down in front of her and lifted up her chin with his hand. "Not that poisonous as far as snakes go, but what I need is their unique venom that paralyzes rather than kills."

Vampirella tried to rise, tried to strike out at the man, but her arms barely obeyed her, and she only succeeded in unbalancing herself. She tumbled onto her side, her hair cascading down around her face. She tried to move again, but her body was almost completely unresponsive to her commands now.

"I had not thought it possible, that such a simple trap as a rope across the doorway can ensnare a creature as powerful and beautiful as yourself." The man said, brushing the hair away from her face. He reached down and slid his smooth hand along one of her long thighs.

"You will make a very interesting addition to my collection." The man said, smiling. It was not a pleasant smile, full of sadistic pleasure.

"But first, I'll have to get you secured."

The Prince stood up and walked away from the still form of Vampirella. He drew aside a thick curtain against one wall of the room to reveal a row of lit candles which instantly lit up the room in their eerie glow. When he returned, he had a bundle of leather items in his hands. He laid them down in front of her, so that she could see them. He picked up the first item and showed it to her. It was a black corset made of stiff and thick hide, reinforced at regular intervals by vertical bones that looked stiff and unyielding. It was opened at the back, and had a series of leather straps running down the left side of the opening, and buckles running down the right. These were securely fastened to the corset by metal rivets. The surface of the corset was polished such that it reflected, dully, the light from the flickering candles.

The Prince placed the corset around the narrow waist of the helpless vampiress, before flipping her onto her stomach. He sat down on her buttocks as he pulled the corset closed around her waist, and proceeded to buckle the straps tightly down her back. He was absolutely merciless in his task, pulling the straps as far as they could go before buckling them, forcing the corset to squeeze her torso tightly and firmly. Even though Vampirella would not be able to feel it now, the bones of the corset dug into her flesh, forcing them into compliance with the unnaturally narrow shape of the corset. When the Prince flipped her onto her back to admire his handiwork, he was satisfied to observe how the corset had effectively made her waist even more slender, her rounded hips more prominent, and how her bosom was lifted up by the upsweep of the corset.

The Prince now took up an item that resembled the black corset crushing Vampirella's waist, with the same buckled-up back and bones inserted at intervals from top to bottom to give its side a pronounced inward curve. But it was far too small to be a corset for the waist. Vampirella realised that it was a collar when the man lifted up her head, brushed her long raven black hair away from her neck, and encased her swan like neck with the 'corset'. It was long enough to cover her neck entirely. The man laced up the back to fit the collar snugly around her neck, and she could feel the shape of the collar forcing her head to tilt up.

The Prince now took up a pair of long leather sleeves. These were made of the lighter material than the items now worn by the captive Vampirella, to allow them to fold, but they ended in mittens made from the same stiff and unyielding material as the corset and collar. He pulled one sleeve up each of Vampirella's arms, and secured the sleeves in place with the small straps that closed the sleeves just under her arm pits. This effectively trapped her hands inside the hard casing of the hide mittens, rendering them useless to grasp anything.

The Prince was not done yet. There was a pair of thick leather manacles secured to the top of the corset, under each of her armpits. He encircled and imprisoned each of her upper arms in one of the manacles, and buckled them tightly. This trapped her arms against her side. He then folded up each of her arms over her chest, just above her breasts. In this position, her wrists crossed in front of her, and he used a leather strap to secure them together. This leather strap had a D-ring on it, and he used a double-ended snap hook to secure this D-ring to a similar ring secured to the front of the collar around the vampiress' neck. This kept her arms crossed in front of her.

The Prince now picked up a large sheath made of the same black hide as the corset, with the same polished surface. The sheath was tapered in shape with a laced-up back with an opening on each end. There were belts bolted over each opening. The length of the sheath betrayed its purpose, as the man slid the sleeve up her long slender legs. It came up to almost her buttocks in the back. He then laced up the sleeve tightly around her legs. It was a long process but by the end, he had meshed both her legs tightly together. The process was complete when he buckled the belts on each end of the sheath, one of which was around her upper thighs, just under her buttocks, and the other around her ankles, tightly. The fitting was so snug around her legs that there was no danger of it sliding down, but to eliminate any possibility of that happening there were a series of leather straps that were riveted to the top of the sheath, which could be pulled up to the hem of the corset, where a series of buckles had been waiting. The Prince secured each of the straps so tightly that they dug into the soft flesh around her buttocks and hips.

The Prince now took up the last item. It was a leather helmet with a full face mask with an opening in the back. It had two holes for the eyes, but lacked any hole for the mouth. Instead, situated over where the mouth should be was a large but stubby rubber dildo, shaped liked an oversized penis. The man pulled back the hair of Vampirella, and placed the dildo into her parted mouth. He then slipped the rest of the leather helmet over her head and then laced it up tightly around her. When he was done, the head of the prisoner had been obscured and in its place was a leather covered head with a pony tail of hair emerging from the back.

"Comfortable?" the Prince mocked when he was done. He stood over Vampirella, almost entirely encased now in polished leather. She was beginning to regain some use of her body, and she was struggling weakly with her bondage. The stiffness of the hide was such that she could hardly move.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the Prince picked up a small wooden box. He opened it and showed its content to Vampirella. Two large, oversized dildos sat on the soft cushion at the bottom of the box. Both were shaped like penises and made from soft rubber. One was short and stubby, with a flanged bottom, obviously a butt-plug, and the other was more slender but much longer. There was also a sheath of lubricants in the box. The man picked up the butt plug first and lubricated it generously. He turned Vampirella onto her side, and folded up her body, so that her butt was pointed at him. He pushed aside the crotch of her red PVC costume, and used his lubricant stained fingers to smear the hole of her anus. Once it was sufficiently lubricated, he placed the fat tip of the butt-plug against her asshole and shoved it into her ass. Even through her venom dulled senses, Vampirella could feel the shock of the blow in her ass rushing up her spine, and she moaned into her gag.

The Prince smiled in his evil way again, and picked up the second dildo, and applied lubricant to its long, ribbed shank. He made sure every inch of it was covered with lubricant before turning his attention to Vampirella's exposed vulva. Using his smeared fingers, he parted the pink vulva lips of the vampiress, and pushed his fingers into the tunnel of her vagina, bringing another moan to the lips of the raven haired captive as he twisted his fingers against her vagina wall, lubricating it. He noted to his surprise, as he did so, that Vampirella's clitoris was slowly beginning to engorge.

"Ahh! I see, so the Cowboy was not a complete failure after all. He did train you to respond to bondage. Or is this your true nature right from the beginning?" the Prince asked, in a voice loud enough to penetrate the thick material of her bondage helmet. Underneath the leather, Vampirella's face flushed with humiliation, but she knew that her captor was right, for she could feel her body responding to her strict bondage, to the butt plug in her ass, and to the fingers in her vagina. She almost cummed when the man placed the tip of the dildo against her vulva lips, and then shoved it home, all the way, up into her vagina. The man had then replaced the crotch of her costume over her nether region, holding the two dildos in place within her.

"How do you like to have dildos in your holes? Are enjoying yourself, my little slut?" the Prince mocked. Vampirella could only try to shake her head as her only means of her protest, but discovered to her disappointment that even this form of expression had been taken away from her by the strict posture collar around her neck.

The Prince clapped his hands twice, and two men appeared in the room from a side door.

"Bring her into the preparation room." The Prince said. The two men bowed, and picked up the bound Vampirella, who was now struggling ferociously in her bondage. She knew it was futile, as she was still too weak from the snake venom, and from the strong leather binding her, but she felt obligated to try, to show that she had not been broken yet. Or perhaps it was because she loved the sensation that came from how her struggles cause the butt-plug and dildo in her ass and cunt to wriggle inside her, or how her breasts felt as they rubbed against the corset around her waist. She did not know which was which, and was afraid to admit the latter might be the true answer. She was afraid that she had indeed been turned into a bondage nympho during her slavery with the Cowboy.

The two men carried Vampirella into the room next door. This room was richly decorated by drawings on the wall that imitated the fresco found in the ancient Egyptian tombs. They brought her to a spot where a long and narrow plank rested between two sawhorses. They placed her onto the plank. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see more men coming into the room. They were carrying rolls of bandages, carefully stained to make them look ancient. They began to wrap the captive Vampirella up and down her body, around both her body and the plank she was bound to. When they were done with her body, they took smaller rolls of bandages and continued with the head, again making sure that her head was securely bound to the plank under her. When they were done, she could not move her head at all. She tried to move the rest of her body, but found that the bandages were embracing her so tightly that she was well and truly secured to the plank, making her body completely motionless.

The men had been careful to wrap only a layer over Vampirella's nose, to allow her to breathe, and they had not wrap her eyes as yet. Instead, they lifted her off the sawhorses, and carried her to a corner of the room where a large mirror had been placed. They put her down in front of it and lifted her up to a standing position to let her see how effectively bound she was. She had to admit that she looked exactly like a mummy. Then she was carried to a corner of the room where an empty sarcophagus stood against a wall.

"Put her inside." The Prince ordered. The men turned Vampirella around and placed her carefully into the sarcophagus. The coffin fitted the vampiress snugly, adding any layer of security to prevent any movement. She whimpered into her gag, but no sound escaped her through the helmet nor through the folds of cloth over her mouth. One last layer of cloth was now placed over her eyes, completely covering them, but she could still see through the cloth. She soon found that there was a purpose to this, as the men made a deliberate show of picking up the lid of the sarcophagus. She could see that the top of the lid was carved to resembled the shape of a woman with an Egyptian headdress and costume. The face was amazingly life-like, and she realized with a shock that it was her face that she was looking at, perfectly frozen. She was being entombed within a sarcophagus made explicitly for her.

"MMMMMMMMMMPH!" Vampirella screamed into her gag as the lid was turned around and fitted to the coffin she had been placed in. She struggled and cried, but her body did not move a bit, nor any sound escaped her. She was as good as a living corpse, about to be buried alive in her own coffin.

The lid was closed over Vampirella, and all sound and light were shut out, sealing her in total silence and darkness. Something primordial inside her snapped, and she screamed and screamed inside her coffin.

The darkness and silence that embraced Vampirella so tightly seemed to last forever. After fighting down her initial panic, she realized that there must be some form of ventilation system built into the lid, for she could breathe normally. But this did not change the fact that she had been placed in an environment of total sensory deprivation, tightly cocooned in strict bondage and placed in a tight coffin. The only thing she could feel was the sarcophagus being moved. It was obvious that she was being transported somewhere. Otherwise, her environment was completely sterile. Being the untamed creature that she was, who found even the tiny dress she had worn to the museum confining and chose to walk about in a costume that was barely more than a bikini, this was total confinement was pure agony for her. She could feel her mind slipping away from sanity. Wild and random thoughts popped into her head, haunting her, as emotions of anger alternated with those of utter despair and helplessness. Faces of enemies and friends swam through her mind, provoking in her feelings of guilt for those she had let down, and hatred of those that had tormented her.

It was almost welcome when the butt-plug in Vampirella's ass and the dildo in her cunt suddenly came alive, seemingly at exactly the right point in time when her mind was weakened by her own nightmares. The shock of the powerful sensations sent shudders up and down her body. If her body had been capable of even the minutest motion, she would have undulated to the powerful pulse of the intruders in her lower tracts. As it was, all she could do was to endure the assaults on her senses. Indeed, her mind latched desperately onto the overwhelming sensations that came from her sensitive lower region, and she could feel her body beginning to respond erotically to the vibrations, with her nipples hardening against the fabric of her costume, and her clitoris becoming more sensitive. Then, just as suddenly as the vibrations started, they stopped, leaving her in deep frustration.

Vampirella tried to squeeze her legs together more tightly, to try to inch the dildo in her cunt up further into her, succeeding only in manipulating it slightly inside herself, to relieve the powerful tension that had been built into her, but to no avail. Silence and darkness returned to dominate her world, and once more an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia flooded her psyche as she struggled with her bondage. After the powerful sensations of the vibrations inside her, the bondage became even more unendurable.

Vampirella's life seemed to melt into cycles of this despair and near ecstasy as the vibrations would start and end suddenly for periods of time. They seem to come at random intervals so that she could not predict them. When they come, they flooded her senses, only to dump her back into the abyss of a terrifying bondage without warning. This was surely some form of cruel torture, designed to drive her towards the edge of insanity. Indeed, she was unable to focus her mind on anything but the alternating feeling of claustrophobia and the insufferable sensation of want built up within her body. She did not knew what was worse, the feeling of unsatisfied want inside her body from the dildo and butt-plug, or the total sensory deprivation of her bondage.

What was worse was the random intervals of powerful vibrations completely disrupted any attempt by Vampirella's body to rest. She would be rudely awoken by the powerful force within her body as the vibrators start, driving her senses towards a sensual peak. This lack of rest reinforced the effect of the sensory deprivation and the shock of the vibrations within her, helping to weaken the will of the captive vampiress.

Finally, when the lid of the sarcophagus was pried open, and light and sound flooded into Vampirella's dark and silent prison, her senses were overwhelmed and she could barely even form the thought of resistance. She felt herself lifted out of the sarcophagus and the bandages binding her to the plank cut to free her from the cocoon. As the cloth bandages fell away, her body was partially liberated in that she could now bend her body and legs to a limited degree. She shamelessly used this opportunity to begin to undulate her body to try to cum.

"Look at the slut." Came a sneer. The voice of the Prince. Vampirella somehow registered the voice, and the insult, but she did not care.

"Take the dildo out of her cunt." Came a command.

Powerful hands grabbed Vampirella and placed her into a kneeling position. Her body was forced forward until her face almost met the ground. She felt the crotch of her costume being pulled aside, and the cool air touching her vulva brought a great relief to her. The dildo was pulled out unceremoniously away from her, and she felt her body tremble from the sensation of the withdrawal. She knew that she had cummed as she felt viscous liquid tickle out of her cunt and down her crotch.

"See how easily she cums? Obviously she loves her bondage." The voice of the Prince said. Vampirella did not care, as she revelled in the sensation of relief. She did not respond even when she heard the sound of a pair of pants being unzipped, and she felt warm flesh probe her vulva lips. Indeed, she moved her hips as the rod of warm and firm flesh ram into her. It felt larger and warmer than any she had felt before.

"Mmmmm..." the vampiress moaned as the penis move up and down her tract, and her body trembled a second time as she orgased and cummed again.

"My, my, you cum so easily." The Prince mocked the captive Vampirella. She did not care as she continued to move her hips to the get the maximum length of her captor's penis into her body. Finally, he ejaculated into her, and she felt her body slump down from exhaustion.

"That's enough for now." The Prince said, "Time to dress her properly."

Vampirella was lifted up to a kneeling position. It was only then that she saw that she was in a private passenger jet. The sarcophagus she had been in was next to her, and she was being held down by two large and muscular amazons. One of them was an African, and the other a blonde. Bound as she was, Vampirella could not resist the grip of the women.

"I would like you to meet two of my slaves." The Prince said, sitting down on a plush leather seat that had been swung round to face her, gesturing to the two women who were dressed in nothing but lacy bra and panties. The African was wearing a white set, while the blonde was wearing a black set.

"As I had anticipated, there was no problem smuggling you out of America at all. The State Department, being anxious to maintain good relations with my country, had been most helpful to ensure that I would experience none of that troublesome security checks. Of course, no one is going to X-ray such a delicate treasure as a newly discovered 3,000 year old mummy. If they did, they just might discover something curious about the two objects in the crotch of the mummy."

The Prince laughed at his own joke, which Vampirella did not find funny at all, especially as she was forced to bend over by the two amazons, and the long dildo inserted back into her cunt again. She quivered as the large object slid up her vagina. She almost cummed a third time as the crotch of her costume was pulled over the two objects inserted in her. When this was done, the women placed a thick belt around her upper thighs, just above her knees, and clinched it tightly in place. The belt gripped her thighs tightly, crushing her knees together. The women then began to unlace the sheath, but did so only half way up, freeing only her lower legs, but still trapping her thighs in a tight hobble.

"But, ironically, entering my own country will be a more delicate issue." The Prince said, "I really do not want my uncle, the Minister of Culture to start asking inconvenient question about a mummy being brought into the country."

Vampirella was now lifted up to a standing position by the two amazons. They took a long black robe and dropped it over her leather bound body. The robe covered her from her neck down to the toes of her boots, covering her body and her bondage completely. The women then took an opaque head veil and placed it over the head of the vampiress, covering it completely with the exception of her eyes. Clad as she was, there was absolutely no sign that she was bound and gagged underneath the robes.

The two women now placed the black clad Vampirella onto an empty seat. The dildos in her cunt and ass were driven deeper into her as she sat down, causing the captive to moan as the two women placed the seat belt over her lap and buckled it tightly. They then went to the back of the plane and put on their own versions of the black robes that they had put on the vampiress. Then they sat down as well as the plane banked in its final approach to land.

The Prince encountered no problems at all as the plane landed. Of course, they could have been picked up right at the tarmac by a limousine, but the Prince chose to walk through the sparkling new terminal of the international airport, with his three black-robed concubines following him. Perhaps it was just for the thrill of it, the fact that he was walking a bound and gagged prisoner right in the open through a crowded terminal. Perhaps he was trying to demonstrate to Vampirella just how hopeless her situation truly was.

Held tightly by the muscular arms of the two amazons, the vampiress could not resist, given that snake venom still stained her blood, weakening her. The women held her tightly by her arms under the robe, and dragged her along, as she tried to follow as best as she could with her knees hobbled together. She struggled with her leather bondage, but they refused to budge, as her eyes darted from side to side, desperately seeing if anyone noticed that she was an unwilling prisoner. No one did. All they saw were two women helping a third who appeared to be sick.

The trio were waved quickly through customs, and they came to the front of the terminal, where a black limousine was already waiting. The driver opened the rear door, and the Prince climbed in before Vampirella was shoved in, followed by the two women. When the vampiress tried to get up, the women grabbed her and forced her into a seat facing the Prince. They pulled seating belts over her bound body to hold her tightly in place. Then, the front of her veil was pulled down all the way so that they covered her eyes. When she had been blindfolded thus, she heard the click of a switch, and suddenly, the dildos in her came alive again. She shuddered and fought against her restraints as the vibrations shook her.

The drive seemed to last forever. Blindfolded as she was, the journey seemed to stretch into long hours of darkness, broken only by the vibration inside of her. When the limousine finally stopped, she was vaguely aware of the fact that she was being unstrapped from her seat, and taken out of the limousine. She was carried for a short distance before they seem to enter a building, and she was dumped unceremoniously on a hard concrete floor.

"Take off those robes." Came the Prince's command. Strong hands pulled away the black robe that had been covering her and her bondage. The bright white light in the room she was in blinded her for a moment before she saw that she was surrounded by four burly men, all clad in desert camouflage uniforms and wearing red berets. Before she could see more, they reached down, grabbed her and put her in a kneeling position before the Prince.

"Turn her into the bitch that she is." The Prince said.

Vampirella felt hands unbuckling and taking off the bondage gear that had been confining her body. They were careful, however, to leave the leather mitten sleeves on her arms, even as they took off the corset around her waist, allowing her to breathe normally. Before they unbuckled her arms from the corset, they placed leather manacles around her wrists, linked by a short chain with a strong iron ring in the centre. Similarly, they had placed leather manacles around her ankles before taking off the sheath from her legs. When they had taken it off, they took a short chain, and passed it through the iron ring in the centre of the chain linking the manacles around her wrists, and connected each end to a leather manacle around her ankles. With another chain, they connected the iron ring to the D-ring in front of her collar.

They then lifted Vampirella up to a kneeling position, and the bondage helmet was taken off her perspiration soaked head. As the penis gag was taken out of her mouth, a long strand of spit came out with it from her mouth. But no sooner had the helmet been taken off then it was replaced with another helmet. They showed it to her before they put it on. It was shaped like the head of a dog, with a long snout and upraised ears. Dark lenses covered the holes where the eyes should be. They placed the helmet around her head, and used the buckles behind her head to secure it tightly in place, leaving only her jaws and lips uncovered. To eliminate any danger of her biting, a thick strap ran under her chin to prevent her from fully opening her jaws.

The men tilted her body forward, and forced her to raise her buttocks up again. Someone took a firm grasp of the butt-plug in her ass and pulled it out. It came out with a soft but audible pop, and Vampirella screamed from the pain. The men laughed, and someone took another item and showed it to her. It was another butt-plug, but larger and longer than the one that had resided in her - she was not even sure if her anus could take something as large as that. It had a flanged base, from which a long rubber tail emerged, sweeping up into a tip. A series of leather straps emerged from the side of the flanged base to form a star pattern, no doubt to hold the butt-plug in place within her. The men laughed and joked to one another as they lubricated the monster plug and placed it in her ass hole. Much to her own surprise, her asshole opened up readily to accept the object, and she felt it slid into place until the flanged base stopped its progress. The men then pulled the straps over each of her hips to encircle her waist, and then buckled the straps tightly in place. Finally, one of the men got behind her, grabbed the front of her costume, and yanked aside the twin strips of fabric covering her breasts. The full globes dropped down and swung under her like pendulums.

"Show her the result." The Prince commanded. A large mirror was carried to a spot in front of her, to her right, and Vampirella could see herself for the first time. The helmet covering her face did make her look like a dog, and as she got up onto her hands and knees, her "tail" seemed to wag. She felt nothing but humiliation as the men around her laughed at the result. The flame of resistance flared temporarily within her and she tried to get up. However, the chains linking her wrists, ankles and neck did not allow her to rise. Realizing that all she did with her futile resistance was to cause her tail to wag, she surrendered to her humiliation and slumped to the ground.

"Put her in the kennel with the other dogs."

Vampirella was lifted up and dragged across the floor. She heard the sound of a gate swinging open, and she was dumped unceremoniously onto the bare concrete floor. The gate was shut behind her and locked.

"Well, bitch, how do you like your new home?" The Prince asked.

Vampirella got onto all fours and observed her surroundings. What she saw filled her with dismay. The cage she was in was but one in a long row. Each of the cages was constructed from chain link fences, enclosing three sides, with a chain-link gate shutting off the fourth. The cages were barely large enough for her to pad around in, being merely six feet by six feet. She also saw that she was not the only one present.

There were other occupants in other cages to either side of her. Some of them were real dogs, which seemed to ignore what was going on. But she could see at least six other creatures occupying the cages that were not canine. They were women, and each of them were as mercilessly bound and transformed into human caricatures of dogs.

As all their faces were covered with a bondage helmet resembling a dog head, she could not see any of their faces, but their skin colours showed that they were from a variety of ethnicity. Some of them were petite. Others look larger. But they all were similarly shackled such that they could not rise, and they all had a rubber plug in their ass with tails that stood up behind them. They were silently watching the new arrival through the fences of their cages. Perhaps they were recalling what had happened to them when they first arrived?

The shame of the situation hit Vampirella hard, and she sat back on her kneels, uncontrollable tears flooding her eyes.

"Yes bitch," the Prince said, forcing every once of cruelty into his voice as he spoke, "You might as well accept it, you are nothing more than a pet now."

The Prince laughed with malicious delight as he turned and left the kennel with his entourage, leaving Vampirella sobbing alone in her cage.

The sound of boots woke Vampirella up from her fitful sleep. She got onto all fours as the boots stopped in front of her kennel. The guard knelt down and pushed a metal bowl under the gate, looked at the juggling breasts of the bound vampiress with ill concealed lust, before getting up and leaving. Vampirella shuffled forward on all fours and sniffed at the content of the bowl. It was filled with freshly ground beef, completely raw and bloody, the only form of sustenance that had been allowed her for the weeks since she arrived.

As a vampiress, Vampirella did not have to eat food in the human sense. She needed only blood. She would very much have preferred to bite the jugular of her captors, and draw the warm blood directly from their body. This conferred certain advantages. It was a much more efficient process as her body's supernatural chemistry could instantly absorb the energy from the blood. Another advantage was that she never had to urinate or shit. But she could eat and drink in the same way humans do, but it would only be for the pleasure of the taste, for the only useful part her body will absorb is the blood. The others became urine or shit that was dumped from her body in the same way as in human bodies.

Vampirella never imagined that this aspect of her biology would be turned against her in a most perverse way. In her captivity, she was fed only with the bloody ground meat. Her only source of blood came from the raw meat. She could not separate the meat from the blood, and she had to take both together. This meant that the meat would be digested and processed into shit by her body.

And Vampirella could not shit with the butt-plug in her ass.

Vampirella remembered the first time she had to go. The pressure in her bowels had built up to an intolerable level, and she had not been able to pull the plug out from her ass, with her hands encased in the bondage mittens, even though she tried. Her predicament must have been observed through some close circuit television, for the Prince had appeared shortly after in front of her cage. He had opened the cage and stepped in. She had looked up at him with the intense hatred she felt in her heart, but the pressure in her bowel was intense. Conflicting thoughts raced through her mind as she looked up at him, before her need to go finally got the better of her.

"I need to go. Get the plug out from me." Vampirella had demanded.

The Prince had slapped Vampirella across her cheek. The leather of her helmet had protected her face, but she had still been jarred.

"Beg!" the Prince had demanded.

Vampirella had refused to do that, and the Prince had left her, leaving her with the increasing urge to shit. She had squirmed and twisted, and she had tried to grab her butt-plug again. Finally, she had given up. When the Prince appeared again, she finally swallowed her pride.

"Please. I need to go. Please, let me go." Vampirella had begged.

That earned Vampirella a second slap.

"Dogs don't talk. Only humans do. Beg like a dog. Raise your paws and whimper." The Prince had demanded.

Vampirella had had to fight down the flash of anger, and get on her knees, and had raised her wrists up in front of her like bent paws, and whimper like a puppy. The Prince had smiled with great satisfaction. Vampirella had so badly wanted to wipe off the smile with a swipe of her talons, but she had no choice but to raise her butt up to allow the man to unstrap the butt-plug, and pull it out of her. Then, he had stood over her, and watched while she relieved herself in her own cage. She had not wanted to, but she had to as she could not hold it in anymore. Then, just to add to the humiliation, she had to allow the man to wipe her ass off with toilet paper before the plug had been replaced and strapped in place. She had then been left in the cage with her own shit until the next morning, when one of the guards came around with a hose to spray the cage down. For good measure, the guard had hosed her down. From that day on, everytime she had to go, she would have to assume the position of a doggy begging when a guard appeared. The guards invariably enjoyed witnessing her shame as she was unplugged and relieved.

Vampirella turned her head slightly to get the snout of her bondage helmet out of the way as she ate from the bowl out of the corner of her mouth. She had refused to eat in this manner in the beginning, but her captors had dealt with that defiance by hooking the D-ring on her collar to a ring embedded in the concrete floor, placing her face inches off the ground, and shoving the bowl before her face. The smell of the blood in the meat had finally overcome her defiance, and she had to eat from the bowl.

Vampirella knew what was happening. Her captors were stripping away her dignity, layer by layer. At each layer, she had been presented with no choice but to accept the degradation. There was nothing she could do about it.

And Vampirella's captors seemed to be well aware of her biological needs. There was never enough blood in the meat to full nourish her. While she would not become malnourish as humans would if not fed a balanced diet, the little blood she could get from the meat kept her physically weak. This, of course, made the work of her captors easier. It also had the side-effect - no doubt intended - of making her unfocused and lethargic.

Vampirella finished the meat in her bowl and crawled back to the back of the cage, and curled up. She was starting to fall asleep again when a series of footsteps came up to her cage. The gate was opened, and a guard stepped into the cage. She sat up when she saw that he had a leash in his hand. She knew better than to defy the guard. The first time she had resisted being led around by the leash, she had been punished in the most perverse manner possible. The guards had come in and grabbed her out of the cage, and dragged her to a cage towards the end of the kennel.

That cage had a steel ring anchored to the centre. Vampirella's neck was secured to the ring by means of a double-ended snap-hook attached to the D-ring on her collar, her face inches off the floor. This forced her to rest on her elbows. Then the manacles around her wrists were pulled together next to the ring, and a second double-ended snap-hook used to link them together through the steel ring. Her ankles were spread, and secured by double-ended snap hooks to two steel rings embedded a foot apart in the concrete floor behind her. This left her in a doggy position on her knees and elbows, with her butt sticking up.

The Prince had appeared to witness the punishment.

"Why do you always have to do it the hard way?" the Prince had asked. He had a bottle of some sort of liquid in his hand, and a brush. He opened the bottle, and dipped the brush into liquid. He had then smeared the liquid on her vulva lips, using the bristles to penetrate past the lips into her vagina as well.

"Just in case you are wondering, it's a pheromone secreted by bitches when they are in heat." The Prince had said with a menacing smile.

A large black mastiff had then been brought into the cage and led round to the front of the captive vampiress for her to see. Vampirella saw to her disgust and horror that the gigantic dog was obviously turned on by the pheromone. The penis of the dog was extending between its hind legs, and it looked formidably large and long. Her captors had unleashed the dog and left the cage, shutting the gate and watching from the outside. She had struggled with her bondage, but she could not break free. The dog had circled her, obviously trying to understand what was happening. She did not look like any bitch that it had seen, and it was confused. But its nature had soon took our, and it had circled round to her back. She had felt his nose sniffed her crotch. Then it had lifted its body up and rested its front paws on her back. She had screamed as its penis entered her cunt. From that day on, she had not made any resistance whenever a guard appeared with a leash. She knew what the punishment would be.

Vampirella was led out of the cage by the leash, and she crawled on all fours behind the guard like an obedient dog. Vampirella's captors had allowed her only limited amount of exercise. Once a day, a guard had come to her cage, clipped a leash to her collar, and led her out of the cage to crawl up and down the kennel on all fours. The sting was, of course, that as she was marched past the other cages, her humiliation was open for all to see. The eyes of the guards and human 'dogs' present followed her luscious body as she crawled on the tiled floor, her large breasts swinging beneath her and her full round buttocks swivelling behind her, wagging the upraised rubber tail.

When they reached the end of the kennel, Vampirella expected the guard to turn back, as they usually do. But this time, he had turned the handle on the door and opened it. Instantly, a hot blast of air hit her in the face as the air from outside rushed in. Then she was led out of the building.

Vampirella had never been allowed outside of the long building since she first arrived, and she had no idea of the place to which she had been relocated. Now she could see that the kennel had been but one building in a large compound enclosed by high brick walls. The watch towers at intervals made the place looked like a prison, but the gardens within the wall were expertly laid out with water fountains and beautifully designed beds of flowers. She could see a large mansion to one side, constructed in the style of a Moroccan palace. But it was not the palace that she was to be led to. Her guard had tugged at the leash and led her towards a drive-way, where a Land Rover with heavily tinted windows was waiting. The rear of the Land Rover was open and she could see a cage in the back of the vehicle.

The guard took something out from his pocket, and Vampirella saw that it was a rubber bone, like the sort that pet owners give to their dogs to keep them from chewing other things. But this bone had a leather strap at each end. One of the leather strap had a buckle at one end, and the other had small holes running down its length. It was not difficult to figure out what the bone was for.

The guard pulled back on the snout of Vampirella's bondage helmet, forcing her to lift her head up and part her jaws. The bone was forced between her teeth, and the leather straps secured together behind the back of her head. The bone, thus, formed a sort of bit gag across her mouth, taking away her ability to speak.

"In." the guard commanded, gesturing towards the rear of the Land Rover. Vampirella obeyed with some difficulty. She had to placed her front paws - hands, she reminded herself - before lifting up her body into the Land Rover. She shuffled into the cage, and it was closed behind her. The rear door was then shut and three guards climbed into the front of the Land Rover. It was started up and driven out of the compound.

Vampirella could see now that the compound was situated in a desert. Sand dunes could be seen in the distance, together with a cloudless blue sky. The road they were driving on was the only sign of civilisation as far as the eye could see. It was hours before she saw human activity as the Land Rover drove through a town and its busy bazaar. The Land Rover had to slow down, and Vampirella could see the throngs of people around the vehicle. But, alas, they could not look into the vehicle and see the helpless captive imprisoned in it, and gagged as she was, she could not call out for help. Then the Land Rover drove past the crowd, and they were on an empty road again. Finally, the vehicle turned up a track and came to an oasis. It came to a halt and the rear door was opened, and the cage unlatched. Someone grabbed her leash, and she was led out of the Land Rover onto the soft sand. She looked up and saw a large Bedouin tent placed in the shade of the palm trees, next to a pool. Looking at her from the entrance to the tent was the Prince.

The Prince had had the entire oasis surrounded with a fence made from stakes and cloth, surrounding the spring that watered the oasis. Water from the spring collected into a small pool. The tent was pitched right next to the pool, serving as a sort of gate house through the fence.

Vampirella was led by the leash through the tent by the Prince, whose interior was richly decorated with plush carpets and hug piles of cushion, to the pool. No guards followed them as she crawled on the ground next to the man who was wearing a costume that belonged to that of a Bedouin sheikh, with the proper headdress, but with a loose robe opened at the front to expose the firm rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen.

As she crawled next to him, Vampirella felt herself very turned on indeed by the sight of her captor. She wondered at this feeling after how she had been tormented over the past three weeks and after how she had been reduced to nothing more than a pet. She had felt the first stirrings of such emotions when she was the pony slave of the Cowboy. After the initial humiliation, she had felt strangely comfortable with the notion of being owned, being treated as a property, to be used as her owner saw fit. It was almost a perverse version of feeling needed and valued, as opposed to her normal existence of an agent of vengeance, hunting alone in the night, unappreciated and unloved.

Vampirella recalled the moment when she had gotten out of the Land Rover and crawled towards the tent. How the Prince had looked at her. There was lust there, no doubt. There was the look of triumph on his face at how he had conquered such a beautiful and powerful creature, and debased her utterly. But there was also a certain look of pleasure in his eyes at seeing her. It had brought her a measure of unexpected pleasure. The Prince, almost as if he was reading her mind, reached down to pat the top of Vampirella's head as he led her out of the tent into the oasis.

Vampirella saw that there were six women in front of the pool. They were all naked, but their heads were all covered with veils - an odd combination of exposure and modesty. Perhaps the Prince was only interested in their bodies, and not their faces. All of them had beautiful bodies indeed, well toned and tanned. There was a mixed of ethnicity, from Caucasian to Asian to African, but they were all tall with long limbs and firm breasts. Each of the women was fettered in light golden chains that linked cuffs around their wrists to a gold chain belted around their narrow waists. The lengths of the chains were such that these women would have retained their full freedom of movement, but the chains remained powerful symbols of bondage.

The women approached the Prince when he emerged from the tent and bowed.

"Wash her." The Prince commanded. One of the women, with Asian skin, stepped forward and took the leash from the Prince. She led Vampirella to the edge of the pool. There, a spike with an eye-hole at its tip had been drive into the ground, and the woman used a double-ended bolt snap to secure the ring in the centre of the chain linking her wrist manacles to the eye-hole. The other woman came up to her, and pulled back her ankles until she was raised on all fours in a doggy position. The women first took off the manacle around her right ankle, and then the boot on her right feet. Instead of replacing the manacle around her ankle, they took it off the chain, and encircle her ankle with the end of the chain instead. They lock the chain in place around her ankle with a strong padlock. They turned to her left leg, and repeated the process.

The women proceeded to Vampirella's arms. One of the women now took a firm hold of her leash, ready to yank it back should the vampiress show any signs of resistance, to permit her sisters to work in peace as they took off the manacle around her right wrist first. They then stripped off the sleeve on her arm. The women then removed the manacle and chained her wrist as they had done with her ankles, before moving on to her left arm, and doing the same. This left her hands free for the first time for a long while.

The women now turned to the bondage helmet covering Vampirella's head. They took off her rubber bone gag first, before undoing the fastenings on the helmet and lifting it off. It was the first time it had come off since her captors had first put it on her head, and even the hot desert wind on her face felt good.

However, the women did not keep Vampirella's mouth void for long. Her head was yanked back and a black rubber ball almost three inches in diameter forced between her jaws. It was held in her mouth by a thin leather strap that penetrated its centre and buckled behind the back of her head. It was only when her mouth had been secured that the women removed the chain linking her collar and the chain between her wrists, and then the collar itself. The collar was replaced by a simple choke chain around her neck. The chain had a steel ring at one end, and the women used a fifth padlock to secure the ring to the chain securing her wrist manacles.

The women had worked efficiently and quickly throughout the process. At no point did they allow more than one of Vampirella's limbs to be free. Even the free limb was effectively controlled by the women with well-practiced wrist lock techniques.

The new form of bondage that had replaced the previous one, while less strenuous, was still strong and unbreakable. As the chains now encircle her wrists and ankles directly, the length remaining between her limbs was also shorter, making her movements even more restricted than before. And the short choke chain connected to her wrist chain ensured that any excessive motion would result in the chain tightening around her throat. Vampirella was still very effectively controlled.

When Vampirella had been thus secured, the women turned to the only remaining part of her bitch costume. The women unstrapped the butt-plug from around her waist and hips, before pulling it free unceremoniously. The captive vampiress whimpered into her gag from the pain, but was glad that it would now be gone from her asshole, for time being at least, for she had little illusion that the intrusions of her anus was now at an end.

The last thing to go was Vampirella's red and white costume. The front clasp of her costume at her throat was undone, and it was pulled down off her torso until it was around her thighs. Then, it was cut free from her legs, and she was completely naked for the first time since her captivity started, glistering in the sun from her perspiration and accumulate grime from her brutal captivity.

The women now unhooked Vampirella from the spike in the ground, and connected a leash to her choke chain. The women led her to the water. Although her bitch costume was gone, she still had to crawl on all fours like a dog, and led around by the leash. She understood that her status as a pet had not changed at all, and the change in bondage was merely for the convenience of cleaning her. Still, she was grateful for the luxury of the cool water against her skin as she entered the pool.

The women proceed to scrub her down with bath mittens and bath gels, making sure that they washed every part of her. Even her lips were pushed up and her teeth rubbed down. Special attention was paid to her erogenous zone. Vampirella felt the coarse material of the bath mittens rubbed vigorously against her vulva lips, parting them, and then inserted into her cunt. Her clitoris was mercilessly assaulted while another hand inserted itself into her asshole and rubbed it in circular motion. She almost fainted with ecstasy and she trashed in the water at the treatment, but one of the women held her firmly by the leash. When, at last, they were done, Vampirella could hardly move, exhausted as she was from the treatment. She had to be carried out of the water between two of the women, while the other women dried her down with towels.

"Dress her up for the night." The Prince ordered. He had, no doubt, been watching the whole time.

Vampirella was led into the tent. She was brought to the front of a wooden trunk. It was opened, and the women took out several wooden boxes from within the trunk. One of the boxes was opened, and she saw a pair of dildos in them, similar to the one that had been inserted into her when she was first captured. She shook her head at the sight of the two large objects, disappointed that her bottom orifices were to be plugged again, but no heed was given to her as she was forced into a doggy position again. The two dildos were lubricated, and inserted unceremoniously into her.

The butt-plug had no difficulty going in at all, as Vampirella's asshole had already been well stretched by the butt-plug tail. The dildo encountered more resistance as she had not had to accommodate a dildo in her cunt for some time. As its ribbed shank went up her tunnel, she shuddered at the sensation. Once the two objects were in, the women opened a large box and took out a metallic object. It was a chastity belt made from stainless steel. It was opened in front and hinged at the back. The belt portion was placed around her waist and latched in place, before the crotch piece was swung up so that a slot on its face mated with a corresponding eyebolt on the front of the belt. This allowed the crotch piece to neatly cover the latch holding the belt together. One of the women took an ornate but strong looking lock, and inserted it into the eyebolt, and locking it with a snap. The chastity belt could not be removed now without the key to that lock.

Vampirella was pulled up to a seated position. The women took a belt, covered in dozens of small bells and tied it around her waist. The width of the belt was such that waist band of her chastity belt was concealed. A necklace made out of small ruby-like stones - she was not sure if they were real - was then placed around her neck, which concealed the choke chain around her neck.

The women now began to dress Vampirella's hair. Her raven black hair was combed back, and oiled with perfume, before being tied into a tight pony tail high on the back of her head. The women then took out a make-up kit and set to work on her face, putting on a pale foundation, followed by rogue on her face. They lined her eyes thickly with a black pencil, before putting thick mascara on her eyelashes. They ended the process by applying a blood red lipstick to her lips, with the black gag still in her mouth. A red veil was now placed over Vampirella's face, covering her nose and her gagged mouth, and then secured around her face by a pin in her hair behind her back. They took out a mirror and showed Vampirella how she looked. She had to admit that she looked very appealing in the costume and make up, with her breasts bare in front of her.

"Excellent." The Prince said, as he entered the tent and observed the result, "You only have to put on the last part of your costume, and you'll be ready for the party."

Vampirella could not hear what was being discussed in the tent. She had been placed behind a thick curtain, which cut out much of the conversation. She only knew that there were many voices, which added only to her distress, as she realized that, soon, she would be put on public display before a crowd.

Vampirella had been secured to a platform, with her legs about a foot apart, with stainless steel manacles secured to the top of the platform. Her arms were raised up, and folded such that her hands were clasped together behind her head, exposing her armpits, which had been carefully shaved and perfumed. Her wrists had been secured by another set of stainless steel manacles to the choke chain around her neck. They were secured such that should she try to pull them apart from each other, the chain would constrict around her throat, choking her before the chain come anywhere near snapping. A chain had been secured to a steel support that rose up from behind her to arch over her head, hidden behind the folds of the fabric of the tent. The other end of that chain was connected to her choke chain, behind her neck, holding her in a standing position. Should she try to bend even slightly, the support chain would pull the choke chain tight around her neck.

Vampirella remembered that she had not put up much of a fight when they released the chain linking her wrists from the choke chain around her neck, and pulled them back to secure them behind her neck. She had been too distressed. The women had just put the final bits of her costume on her. These were two nipple shields of gold. And they were held around her nipples by pins that pierced through her nipples. The women had used a local anaesthetic to dull the pain, but given that she had already recovered from the piercing given to her by the Cowboy, the piercings still stung. Even now, her nipples were throbbing under the shields from which a pair of golden tassels hung. Any movement she made caused the tassels to swing from side to side like pendulums, complementing the juggling of her unrestrained breasts. And, of course, they were convenient stress points to keep her docile when her arms were being chained in place. Any signs of defiance will end her a sharp tug on both the tussels.

Vampirella had been left in this stressful and uncomfortable position for what seemed like hours now. She had at first been grateful for the fact that she had been allowed to stand up straight and stretch her body, after spending so long crawling around on all fours, but this new position had become stressful as well. As she shifted her weight slightly to her right feet again to give her left feet a rest, causing her breasts to juggle and the tassels on her nipple shields to swing, she could not help but wonder about the performance she was supposed to give. The word implied that she was to do something, not simply be put on display, but her captors had never explained what it was she was to do.

Suddenly, without warning, the curtain in front of Vampirella parted, and light flooded into the little alcove she had been standing in. The sound of vigorous clapping greeted her ears, and she was startled to see just how many people were in the tent. They were all men, and they were all looking at her, devouring her nakedness with their eyes, which ran up and down her body, most often resting upon her magnificent breasts. It was yet another humiliation inflicted upon her, but, strangely, she actually felt a sense of pride mixed in with the shame at being the subject of such admiration.

"My dear friends, now that we have concluded our business, let me provide you with some entertainment this evening. This is the latest addition in my harem. She is a little new, so you must excuse her if she is not as skilful as the others that you have seen before, but I am sure you will appreciate her beauty, her heavy breasts, her long limbs, her narrow waist. But more importantly, I am sure that you will appreciate the fact that she is a true vampire."

The last comment drew a surprised response from many present, and some of them leaned forward to get a closer look, but Vampirella's mouth was still covered by a veil. The Prince stood up from his pile of cushion. He walked up to the prisoner, and drew the veil aside. Behind the veil, Vampirella's mouth was still gagged. The man lifted up her upper lips, exposing her sharp canine teeth. The men muttered excitedly amongst themselves.

"This vampire is like no others. She can walk in daylight, and is more powerful than any other individual vampire. Indeed she is a hunter of vampires. Her name is Vampirella."

Hearing her own name again came as a shock to Vampirella. She did not understand why, but being named seemed like an act of shaming to her. The very fact that she had been named while she stood on display before strangers seemed to emphasise the fact that she was no longer her own mistress.

"And tonight, the once proud and mighty Vampirella will be reduced to nothing more than a dancing slave, displaying her charms for your pleasure." With those words, the Prince clapped twice.

A quartet of Arabic musicians with traditional instruments began to play. Before Vampirella knew what hit her, the dildo in her cunt and the butt-plug in her ass suddenly sprung into life. She had never felt such powerful vibrations before, and they sent pulses of shock waves through her. Her body shook violently almost out of its own volition. As she did so, her breasts juggled in front of her, and the tussles seemed to dance before her nipples. With her ankles clamped to the platform, and her neck secured to the steel support behind her, the violent shaking of her tautly stretched body was translated into gyrations in her hips. The vibrations come in pulses, arranged in synchronisation with the music from the band, increasing in intensity when the music reached a crescendo and falling away when the music slowed down. This, in turn, caused her body to respond in line with the music. It was a devilish arrangement. She was in effect made to do a crude sort of belly dancing as the powerful vibrators shook away inside of her.

The performance was crude, as the Prince had warned, and it was not really belly dancing, but the audience did not seem to mind. They cheered and hooted as Vampirella quivered before them, screaming in agony into her gag from the rough treatment of the vibrators. They knew that she was being forced to dance, and the idea excited them. No doubt many of them were already forming fantasies about what they were going to do with her when they get their hands on her. Almost certainly, they had already doubled the amount that they had intended to bid for her in the first place.

As the rhythm of the music became more and more intense, two of the women who had bathed and prepared Vampirella for the evening emerged from the sides, still starkly naked with the exception of the veils across their faces. Each of them carried a cat-o-nine-tails. They stepped up next to the gyrating vampiress, and began to swing their black leather whips to the beat of the music.

Vampirella screamed into her gag as the tentacles of the whip dug into the flesh of her rump. The two women were merciless as they worked their whip against her buttocks. They were playing her like an instrument, using the whips to cause her to gyrate her hips in pace with the music. The blows from the whips, together with the pulsation of the vibrators in the vampiress, pushed her body to move even vigorously. It seemed to adopt a rhythm independently of her mind as it grew accustomed to the music, to the pulses of vibration in her, and to the blows of the whip on her buttocks.

"Mmmph! Mmmmmmmmph!" Vampirella screamed and screamed, but her gagged cries were drowned out by the music. She knew that there would be no mercy even if her captors had heard her, and she could only closed her eyes, and pray that it would all be over soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Prince finally put up his hand to put an end to the performance. Almost as quickly as they had started, the vibrations within her, and the blows on her buttocks stopped, leaving Vampirella panting and perspiring. She held limply on to the chain holding her up with her hands, as she felt too weak to support herself only with her feet. She looked at the audience before with what she hoped was a look of defiance.

"I hope you enjoyed our little performance tonight." the Prince said to the audience, smiling. The audience leapt to their feet and applauded enthusiastically. The Prince glowed with pride as he turned to the chained Vampirella and whispered, "You have done well, my little pet. You have done very well indeed."

Vampirella was too exhausted to even look into the eyes of the Prince and show him the hatred that she felt in her heart.

Over the next few weeks, Vampirella's existence alternated between being the Prince's bitch slave and his dancing slave. After her first performance, she had been forced to 'dance' for the next few nights, entertaining the Prince's guests, whom she found out were actually his customers, there to purchase the latest and most exquisite white slaves from the Prince. The man was known to be able to lay his hands on the most exotic and difficult merchandise. Later, she found out that some of these women, like her, had been hunted and trapped, while others had been seduced, and after a night of passion, woke up to find themselves trussed up and gagged on the Prince's private jet, on their way into slavery.

Vampirella had seen the latest batch of slaves that the Prince was putting up for auction as she was dragged from the tent after her performance. They had been put in cages behind the tent, hidden from view by a great tarpaulin, stacked up two high. There must have been dozens of cages, each occupied by a beautiful woman. It was an eclectic mixture, ranging from Africans to Asians to Nordics. All of them were beautiful and in superb physical shape. All of them were stark naked, their charms fully exposed to view. All were bound with their hands tied behind their backs with silken cords and gagged with a dog collar around their necks, from which a tag hung with a number. As she looked at them, she saw that some seemed to have accepted their fate with stoic resignation, while others were sobbing in fright or despair.

Vampirella was given a 'privileged' existence compared to these women. Although her captors were careful to keep her bound and gagged, they had arranged a special cage for her, much larger than those for the other women. The hard wooden floor of the cage was lined with straw to cushion her body, something that her captors had not bothered to provide for the other slaves. The next morning, Vampirella saw why. The cages had trays inserted underneath them, into which the slaves would relieve themselves through a hole to the rear of the cage. This was done in public. A slave had no privacy.

After the second night's performance, Vampirella had been taken down from the platform, but instead of being returned to her cage, had been frog tied with silken cords, and placed next to the Prince. He had put a leash to the choke chain around her throat as a means to control her, and pulled her sweaty body closed to his, laying her head in his lap. As the proceedings began, he stroked her hair and fondled her breasts.

The women were brought into the tent in batches of three, linked to one another by chains on their collars. They had all been washed down, and made up, but no costume was put on them so as not to interfere with the process of viewing. For the second night, no buyer was allowed to touch the women. They could only view them, and note down the number that they were interested in. Each of the slaves was released from the others, and forced to climb onto the platform, then turned every which way according to the requests of the customers. If they refused or was too slow in complying to instructions, one of the veiled women present would not hesitate to discipline them with a cat-o-nine tails. There were very few such cases.

After the third night, only those women, whom the customers were interested in, were put up again. The rest, which were not many, whom no customers had expressed an interest were shipped off immediately. The women were now brought into the tent all at the same time, and arranged in a circle. Those customer who had expressed an interest in one could now go up to the woman to examine her physically, fondling her breasts, opening her mouth to look at her teeth, touching her buttocks to make sure that they were firm. Finally satisfied, they would begin the bargaining process, only after some more entertainment, that is, another performance put up by Vampirella.

The Prince had received some discreet inquiry about Vampirella. She was clearly the most exotic of the lot at the desert slave auction. The fact that she was a vampiress added to her allure. Not only was it very rare to have a vampiress as a slave, but a vampiress could last for a very long time indeed in slavery. They would not grow old with years, and their bodies would retain the youth and suppleness even after mercilessly hard use. Vampirella shuddered to think about spending the rest of her very long life chained up as a slave.

The Prince had declined all offers, some of which were for sums almost unheard of for a slave, even one that was of the most expensive type, a supermodel or a movie star. The Prince simply said that Vampirella was his personal slave. But he did casually mention that he would consider putting her up for sale should he ever tire of her. In truth, Vampirella was already serving his purpose quite well, as the customers were generally willing to pay more for the other slaves than previously, perhaps in the hope that they would be considered favourably should the Prince decide to part with his favoured slave.

Thus, the Prince had returned to his palace in high spirits, with Vampirella riding by his side in a BMW SUV, instead of in a dog cage in the back of a Land Rover. She had been placed back into her bitch costume by the veiled women, who returned every bit of that detested garment, piece by piece, onto her body. The bondage helmet with the dog-like snout and ears, the arm-length mittens, the posture collar, and the horrid oversized butt-plug with the rubber tail, which replaced the chastity belts and the two dildos that had been within her.

The only item that was not returned was her own red and white costume. The women had left the nipple shields with the tassels on her. But in place of Vampirella's high-heeled boots, they had put a new pair of boots on her. It was made of glossy black PVC with a front that was laced up along its front, from the ankle almost up to where the top of the boot touched her crouch. The boots were a pair of cruel contraptions, for they held her feet permanently in a tiptoe position. The heels were almost ten inches long, and reached down at an angle almost parallel to the boots, forming a pair of U-shapes. 'Luckily' for her, she did not have to stand up in them as she was shackled into her doggy position again, on her hands and knees. After she had been bit-gagged with a doggy bone, she was led into the BMW SUV by the Prince himself for the ride, during which she was allowed to lay on the plush leather seat of the passenger compartment, and rest her head on the man's lap, while he had his way with her body.

Once back in the palace, Vampirella became the personal pet of the Prince, going almost everywhere he would go. She was even allowed to sleep next to his bed at night, with the appropriate precautions, of course. She was invariably gagged with something large in her mouth to prevent her from biting, and her arms would be pulled back, and a pair of leather manacles used to secure them together, holding her hands tightly against her side. No chance was taken with her, even though she was completely submissive now to every whim of her captor. To add to Vampirella's helplessness, a pair of opaque goggles would be fitted over her eyes, so that she could not observe her surroundings. She would not know when she was being watched, so she could not make a move to try to escape. She only had to be taught once, when she had tried to grapple with the manacles binding her wrists through the mittens. It was a hopeless task, but it was instantly punished. She felt the blow of a riding crop brought down neatly onto her naked and upraised vulva. The pain was excruciating. She had ceased and desisted immediately, and never made the same mistake again.

Vampirella was brought to the dinning table every night as well. While her master and his concubines dined from the table, she was invariably leashed to his chair, on her hands and knees. She had been taught to assume the begging position, raising her bent paws together in front of her, sticking out her tongue, and panting. Sometimes the Prince would pretend that he did not notice, and she would have to whine like a puppy to get his attention.

Vampirella would be fed 'scraps' from the table from time to time, usually mutton that was done almost raw, with blood still in them. She knew that the bloody meat was not really scraps from the table, for her Master never ate meat that was still bloody, but the fact that she was to be fed from the main table was an added reminder of her subservient role as a slave. She was no longer her own mistress. Even her food was to come from 'scraps' when her Master saw fit to spare from the main table.

To reinforce that message, Vampirella now could only relieve herself when her Master brought her out on 'walks' within the compound of the palace. She would follow behind him in full view of everyone present, her heavy breasts swinging beneath her, her rubber tail wagging behind her as she crawled hard behind him to keep in pace. He would walk her to some spot, usually behind a tree or some brush, and unplug her to allow her to relief herself. She could only do this when the Master saw fit to take her out for a walk. Sometimes, he would either forget or ignore her, and she would have to do everything in her power to get his attention, assuming the begging position, whining, or picking up the leash from the ground in her mouth and crawling up to his side.

Vampirella's life as a bitch slave slowly sunk into a routine for her. There was not that much she could, except be around her Master all day and trying to please him, so that her basic needs would be met. The worst thing that could happen was to be sent to the dog-house. Situated in a secluded spot of the gardens in the compound, this was not the kennel, but a cramp box made out of chain-link fences, completely open to the elements. Worse, it was too small to fit her body, and her head and butt will be protruding from the box, while she lay bound on her hands and knees. Her cunt was completely open to anyone who wanted to use her. Her mouth would also be ring-gagged so that it was open all the time should that person see fit to satisfy himself in her mouth rather than in her cunt. She had been sent there only once, for two days and nights. She did not know why she had been sent there, only that the master had been displeased, and had paddled her buttocks with a rolled up newspaper, before putting her in the dog-house. It was a horrid experience as a stream of men came and went, making full use of her vulnerable position to satisfy their own needs. By the time they let her out, her body was cramped from the stressful position and the cruel usage that it had been put through. Then, inexplicably, the master had taken her back into his bed, treated her tenderly, and then lulled her to sleep on his bed after a wild fucking session.

Confused as she was, Vampirella knew that her future depended entirely on the whim of the Master now, and she was determined to please him in every way possible. She learnt to behave exactly like a dog would in all respects. She pleased him so well that the man decided to put her into a new costume, or, rather, more accurately, put her into a new skin. She was placed in a catsuit made of transparent latex, covering her from neck to toes. The latex had black spots all over, and when stretched against her pale skin, gave the impression of black spots on white fur. Her black bondage helmet with its upturned ears was also replaced, by one that was white with black spots. The ears were floppy and rested against the sides. Both her boots and mittens were replaced by ones with a similar scheme. The last to be substituted was her tail, and she was given one that had faux fur on it, in the same black spots on white pattern. The result, when they showed it to her in the mirror, was a more than passable imitation of a Dalmatian.

The Master had smiled proudly, and bestowed upon her a new dog collar to replace the constricting posture collar. It had sharp spikes coming out all around it, with a simple plate in front that said, "Spot". That was to be her name from then on.

After her total transformation into a bitch, Spot became even more devout to her Master. Her past life of a lonely crusader was slowly becoming nothing more than a faded memory as she received all the warmth and attention from her Master that she had always craved for. The fact that every aspect of her life was controlled, the fact that she was constantly punished or rewarded, seemed to be perverse evidence of the constant interest her Master had in her. The worst punishment that her Master could bestow her now was to ignore her, to banish her from his presence.

Spot led a contented existence in the palace of her Master. Eventually, she was allowed to roam the palace grounds more or less freely, albeit constantly within view of one armed guard or another. She was vaguely aware of the possibility that her Master had ordered the guards to shoot her with their rifles if necessary, or to drive their bayonets into her should she show any sign of escaping, but these were no longer thoughts she dwelled on. She would berate herself for even thinking such awful thoughts about the Master.

The Master would even allow Spot to lay next to him as he discussed business with guests or over the webcam. Her presence had never failed to fill whoever the Master was talking to with envy, which pleased her Master very much. He would then reward her by fucking her silly that night before they go to sleep.

Thus, it came as a total shock to Spot to learn that the Master was about to send her away. She did not know if the Master knew that she had heard him discuss the deal over the webcam with someone faraway. She doubted that he cared. It was a business proposition.

"Yes, I think she's ready for you." The Master had said, "She had become very docile now."

"Not too docile, I hope. I want to put some ideas I have to use." The disembodied voice on the other side had said as Spot padded into her Master's study.

"No, no," the Master had laughed, "Don't forget, she's always an animal deep down inside. That's who she really is. That's what she really is. You just have to bring out the fire in her."

The Master noticed the presence of Spot as she stopped in front of his desk, and squatted down with her hands on the floor between her legs. She stuck out her tongue and panted like a dog.

"Oh, Spot's here," the Master said, turning his laptop computer around so that the webcam is pointing at her, "Why don't you say hi!"

Spot looked up to see a familiar face. She could not place it at first, then suddenly connected a famous name to the face. She barked twice to indicate her enthusiasm.

"Well, well, it certainly looked as if you've trained her well." The head on the laptop screen said as Spot shook her rump to make her tail wag behind her. It was a skill she had become very adapt at. The Master laughed.

"You are the first one to capture her and break her. You deserve to win the wager. The money will be in your Swiss bank account before sun down." The disembodied voice said as the Prince turned the laptop around to face him again.

"You are most kind. And I will have her crated and sent to you as soon as possible as you have ordered."

The Prince closed the laptop and got up. He picked up the leash from the desktop and clipped it to Vampirella's collar. She followed him docilely as he led her out of the palace to the large warehouse like structure that she had never been brought to before. Large metal double doors began to slide open with a thud, allowing the man to enter, followed by his captive with her tail wagging behind her as she crawled.

Vampirella looked around her and saw an entire warehouse full of women in cages, stacked almost five high in most places. Some of the cages were being moved by men driving forklifts, who loaded them into a large shipping container on a trailer. She followed the Prince as he walked up to the container, and spoke in an unfamiliar tongue to a man in overalls, who seemed to give him a quick briefing of how the operation was going on. She looked up into the container, and saw a pair of eyes looking down at her. They belonged to a petite young brunette, who was mercilessly bound in a rope body harness with her hands behind her back, and whip marks throughout her body. Vampirella realised with a start that she was suspended in her cage by her rope harness, as her legs had been frog-tied under her, and they were off the floor of the cage. She seemed in obvious agony. Vampirella wondered what she had done to deserve this. Perhaps she had defied her captors, and this treatment had been her just deserts.

The Prince stopped talking, and led Vampirella to a spot in the warehouse, where an open crate had been placed. A pair of wooden stocks had been placed within the crate. One was above the other. The lower one had two holes about a foot apart, while the higher one had three holes, with the one in the middle being larger than the two by its side. It was obvious that the lower one would hold the ankles of a prisoner, and the higher one the wrists and neck. A wooden fitting projected up from the centre of the crate, between the two stocks, rising about a foot off the ground. Two hard rubber dildos projected near to the top of the fitting, and projected towards the higher of the two stocks. Vampirella could just imagine how a prisoner within the crate would be held, with her neck, wrists and ankles securely locked in place, and the two dildos holding her rump up. It would be almost impossible for her to move. Vampirella observed that wires ran out from the back of the wooden fitting in the centre of the crate, and she surmised that these powered vibrators in the dildos.

Vampirella glanced to one side and saw a piece of paper pasted onto the cover of the crate. She noted the address of the crate, and suddenly realised, with a chill, that this crate was meant for her. She was to suffer a long trip in the crate, held immobile with two large objects inserted into her. She almost did not notice the slight tug that the Prince gave to her leash. She turned to follow him, confusing thoughts firing off in her mind, accompanied by conflicting emotions.

"I must leave you now, Spot. I've got some errands to run in town, but I'll be back before this evening." The Prince said, as he walked her out of the warehouse and into the gardens, "But I'll make sure that you are properly prepared for tonight."

The words hung in Vampirella's ears, pregnant with meaning. The Prince led her to the driveway, where he handed the leash to an armed guard, giving him some instructions before closing the car door. The guard saluted, and pulled on her leash. She turned reluctantly to follow the man, aware that for the first time in a long while, she was not being led by the Prince, but a stranger, who could not conceal his lust as he pulled her behind him towards some bushes. It was a familiar route, for that was one of the spots where the Prince allowed her to relieve herself. She followed the guard until they were behind a large bush where they could not be seen. He leaned down, and unstrapped the butt-plug from her waist, and pulled it free.

Vampirella got on all fours, and lifted her right leg in an imitation of a dog urinating. However, the chain connecting her ankles were too short, and she could not lift her leg up far enough. She looked up at the guard and whimpered pleadingly. The guard laughed, obviously enjoying the moment as he leaned down and unconnected the chain from the manacle around the right ankle. As he did so, he lazily thought about how he had never seen her lift her leg to urinate before, although he had seen her shit often enough in a squatted position.

Before the guard could put two and two together, Vampirella reached up with her right leg to encircle the neck of the guard, trapping it. At the same time, her mitten bound hands shot up and gripped the guard's neck and twisted it viciously. She dropped his lifeless body onto the ground, and pulled out the bayonet from its scabbard on the belt of the guard. She wedged it between two rocks nearby, and gripped its sharp blade in her right hand. She pulled her hand away, slicing away the thick leather material over her palm. She repeated the process with her left hand. Then, she peeled the cut leather material aside to let her hands come free. She quickly disconnected all the chains linking her manacles. She picked up the bayonet and quickly cut through the maze of laces binding the ballet boots to her legs. She pulled them off and dumped them aside.

Then for the first time in months, Vampirella was free. She took off the bondage helmet around her head and leaned down to bite into the neck of the dead guard. The warm blood quickly rejuvenated her as she drank her fill.

The carnage that followed was unparalleled in the history of the small kingdom. No guard escape her wrath as Vampirella rampaged through the palace, silently dispatching the guards, one by one. She left the last guard alive for a moment longer to gain a crucial bit of information from him, before snapping his neck.

Miles away, a black limousine cruised down an empty desert road. Without warning, the occupants of the limousine heard a heavy thud on the roof, startling the three men in it. A pair of arms smashed through the sunroof of the car and reached into the front compartment. The bodyguard seated next to the driver drew his pistol from his shoulder holster, but before he could use it, the arms grabbed his neck and broke it. The driver panicked and lost control of the car, throwing the limousine into a ditch.

One of the doors enclosing the passenger compartment opened, and the Prince crawled out of the car, his head bleeding. He stood up slowly, suffering terribly from concussion, trying to focus his eyes. They rested on a tall and shapely figure sauntering up towards him. They focused, and he saw that she was dressed in a black spotted latex costume. It was Vampirella, but not like he had ever seen her before. She had a large pair of leather bat wings on her back, sticking out through rips in the latex costume that she had torn open with her talon-like fingernails, now free of the mittens that had imprisoned them for so long. Her face, now unmasked, while still beautiful, had taken on a more savage and animal like visage. It was a form that she could only take when she was well fed from blood. And her lips were still stained from the feast she had had back in the palace.

The Prince showed genuine fear for the first time. He jumped up and turned, stumbling away from the vengeance of the creature that he had captured and enslaved. She came after him, unhurriedly, step by step, letting him run, toying with him. Then when she grew tired of the game, she tore open his stomach. It took him a long time to die.

The policemen had never seen such carnage before in their lives. A desperate phone call from a guard in the compound who was about to die had prompted the heavily armed officers to raid the palace compound to find every guard dead. The initial speculation that this was a terrorist attack became less tenable when dozens of naked women were found in a warehouse in the rear. Some had already been loaded up, ready for shipment. From documents found in the computers in the palace, they discovered the whole white slavery conspiracy. The matter was quickly hushed up and the women repatriated from whence they came, to avoid a public scandal. They never found the culprit who had launched the attack.

End of Part II


	6. Chapter 6

Breaking Mystique

The black Jaguar drove up to the concrete gatehouse standing next to the heavy iron gates. The gatehouse was built almost like a bunker, with narrow slits closed by blue-tinted armor glass, through which the face of a guard peered out into the car. The owner of the car had lowered the window, and lifted his pass.

"It OK, doc," the guard said, smiling, "You may proceed."

The guard pressed a button. A short alarm sounded, then the heavy locks of the gate snapped open, and the heavy gate began to slide aside slowly. It took a moment before the gate slide open enough for the Jaguar to pass through. Gunning the engine, the owner of the Jaguar sped the car through the gate and up the path towards the lone building on the hill that was encircled by heavy concrete walls. The building looked rather like a fortress, with its faÃ§ade pierced only by small windows, all set high up along its sides. Only a small front entrance was obvious.

Parking the car, the figure got out of the vehicle. He was a tall man with broad shoulders that showed that he worked out often. He looked surprisingly young for a man of his obvious status and wealth, and was dressed accordingly in fashionable togs of dark sweater, dark jeans, with expensive shoes and cashmere overcoat. He walked up to the entrance. The glass doors slid open to admit him into a small lobby behind.

The lobby was empty, but the presence of a discretely mounted security camera on a wall showed that it was monitored. On the opposite end of the lobby was another set of glass doors. Unlike the first, the blue tint of the glass betrayed their armored nature. He stepped up to a steel post that rose up to his waist, the top of which was inclined downwards at an angle. He placed his palm on the glass panel on the surface, and waited. It took a few seconds for the device beneath the glass panel to scan and match his palm print. With a melodic chime to indicate that the lock was opening, the magnetic locks on the door deactivated, allowing the man to pull the door open and walk into the second lobby behind.

"Good evening Doc, wasn't expecting you to come back so soon." said a disembodied voice coming from a speaker box mounted above a glass covered window. A guard could be seen behind the window. Like the other guards in the building, he was dressed neatly in a well-cut suit, which concealed a gun belt around his waist, with a .40cal GLOCK pistol sitting in a holster. If something heavier was needed, there was the Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun placed just below the window, which could be used through slits in the armored glass window.

"Just forgot something, Bob." the man said as he turned to walk up a corridor to his right. Most of the laboratories along this corridor were in semi-darkness, with only some lights switched on to allow security to see the inside. The man came to the end of the corridor, where another steel post sat next to a doorway closed by a heavy polished steel door. He placed his palm on the glass panel. After a few seconds, an electronic buzzer announced that his palm print had been matched, and the door was opening.

As the door slid open, the man stepped into the small room behind. The room was sparse, with bare concrete walls and a raised floor. His shoes tapped on the raised metallic floor that rang from the impact. The only furniture was a steel chair and a small desk. There was another guard in the room. He was a short and thick set man, and was graying on his temples. He was one of the senior security officers of the facility.

"Good evening Doc, forgot something?" the guard asked as he walked up to another steel door opposite to the one where the man had just came in from. Like the first door, there was a steel post on one side of the door. Unlike the previous posts, this one had a keyhole above the glass panel.

"Hello Fred, just got on shift?" the man asked.

"Yeah, Doc." the guard said as took out a key from his pocket, secured to his belt by a thin chain, and inserted it into the keyhole, "What's the password?"

"Fox Blue, Fred." the man said calmly as he placed his palm on the second post.

"Thanks Doc," the guard said, smiling, "You know how it is. Not that we don't trust you. It's just one of those security protocols to make sure you aren't one of those shape shifters."

"I understand Fred." the man said as he placed his own palm on top of the other post.

The door opened, and the man walked through the open door into a large office, dominated by a large steel desk, and a plush cushioned leather armchair. The security guard followed him through the doorway just as the steel door slid shut.

The man turned.

"Fred, what are you doing? You know you're not supposed to come in here."

"I'm not Fred."

The voice was not that of a middle-aged man, but that of a woman. Slowly, before his very eyes, the body of the man seemed to elongate, glowing taller and slimmer at the same time. As the beer belly shrunk inwards, the chest began to push outwards, even as the limbs began to grow longer and become slimmer.

The hair began to grow longer and as it did so, it turned from grey to a dark red. The eyes transformed too, with the dark brown pupils turning yellow. The yellow spread beyond the pupils until both eyes became completely yellow, giving the eyes an animal like appearance.

At the same time, the suit and shoes melted away, almost as if it had been absorbed into the skin. The tinge of the skin began to change too, turning into a deep blue, even as patches of scales appeared on the otherwise naked body, covering most of the limbs, the face, and the groin. The scales did not cover the long swan like neck, nor the flat stomach and the inner flanks of the long thighs.

The body continued to change. The waist narrowed and the hips became rounder and more feminine. The bosom of the body continued to expand, become more bulbous and more separated until they became two firm domes.

The figure standing before the man was now that of a woman. With her unnatural yellow eyes and the scales covering her body, the woman looked almost reptilian.

"Mystique." the man said.

"So, you've heard of me." the woman asked, as she sauntered up towards the man, who backed up towards the desk, "And, oh, if you're thinking of activating the alarm, I've already disabled it from the outside."

"What happened to Fred?" the man asked.

"Well, I seduced him, and then drugged him. Don't worry, he's safely asleep in a motel room. I just had to have his key. Of course, I needed your palm print to get in here, so I had to take Fred's place. Now, be a good boy, and hand over the formula."

"What formula?" the man asked.

Mystique sighed.

"We aren't going to do this the hard way, are we, Doc?" the blue woman asked, "Or perhaps you need something a little more exciting to make you talk?"

The costume of the woman began to change again. A glossy black PVC corset seemed to emerge from her skin to cover her torso from her firm breasts down to her narrow trim waist. At the same time, a glossy black thong appeared around her loins. A pair of glossy black knee boots appeared on her feet. A pair of stiletto heels grew out from the heels, boosting the height of the tall mutant by a few inches. Something began to grow in her hand, extending until it became a long bullwhip, which Mystique slithered beside her as she walked towards the man.

"I can make this, very, very painful for you." Mystique said wickedly.

"No, you don't understand." the man said calmly, leaning against his desk. He took out his car remote control from his pocket, before adding, "There's no formula. There never was a formula. It was a story I cooked up. I am the guy who hired you to steal the 'formula'."

Mystique stopped.

"Why?" Mystique asked, an edge of suspicion and unease in her voice.

"Why? It's a trap, of course." the man said, as he pressed a red button on his car remote control. In the next instant, before Mystique could react, she felt a powerful jolt of electricity passed through her from the metal plate she was standing on. She screamed in pain as her body quivered from the assault from the electricity. She fell onto all fours on the floor of the office, her body smoldering. The glossy black costume and boots she was wearing dissolved instantly into her body, leaving her body covered only by the strange blue scales on her skin.

"Hmmm. It is just as I suspected." the man said as Mystique struggled painfully onto her feet, "Those 'boots' on your feet aren't real. As you might have guessed, you the whole floor had been rigged to function like an electric stun gun. It's harmless to me, of course, since I'm wearing shoes, but for someone barefooted like you, it'll keep you subdued."

"I ... will ... kill ... you!" Mystique said, painfully as she tried to stand erect. Her breasts heaved before her like two scale-covered fruits as she took a painful step forward.

"You are tough, but I've studied you for a while." the man said, casually, "I know how much you can take."

The man pressed the red button again.

"Aaaaeeeee!" the blue mutant howled again in pain as she went into spasms, before collapsing onto the floor of the office, unconscious.

Mystique's eyes fluttered a few times, before they suddenly opened. Her eyes rolled and darted in bewilderment for a few moments as her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. Her eyes widened in alarm as she suddenly remembered about the terrible assault on her body that had rendered her unconscious.

Mystique tried to get up, but she could not raise her head more than a couple of inches off the metallic floor she was laying on. She was on her right side, with her limbs splayed out before her. Her legs were bent, with her knees raised almost to the level of her waist.

Mystique tried to get up a few times more. With each attempt, she seemed to gain more strength, and at last, she managed to turn and raise her body until she was on all fours, before sitting back on her heels, her body still sluggish and weak. She looked around her, and found that she had been placed in a small room while she was unconscious. The ceiling, the floor and three of the walls of the room were all made from matte stainless steel.

The remaining wall seemed to be entirely covered by a mirror, from where she could see her own reflections. The thought occurred to Mystique that it could be a one-way mirror, allowing someone on the other side to observe her in the brightly lit room.

Mystique rested for a while before getting gingerly to her feet. Her body was still wobbly, and as she struggled to stand upright, her breasts juggled before her. When she succeeded, she leaned against the walls for support as she explored and examined her cell. It was not roomy, but not too cramped either. Pacing around the perimeter, she guessed that the cell was about nine feet long and six feet wide.

The room was completely devoid of furniture of any sort, not even a bed or a toilet. But the most conspicuous absence was the lack of any door. There did not seem to be any opening that would allow a person to enter into the room. Mystique explored the walls and the floor. They felt solid to the touch. There was no give or slight movements as she pushed against them to indicate that they might be an opening.

Lights had been built into the perimeter of the ceiling of the cell, and covered by glass. Heavy duty mesh covered each corner of the cell. Looking up through the mesh, Mystique could see speakers in the two corners on the mirror side of the room, and two whirling ventilator fans on the opposite side. Besides these fixtures, Mystique observed that there were a number of recesses placed in the otherwise smooth surface of the steel floor and steel walls. On the walls, these recesses traced a staccato pattern along the top and bottom edges. On both the floor, the recesses formed three rows across the room. In each of the recesses was a heavy-duty D-ring, fitted such that the ring could be swung out of the recess, but would normally fit flush within the recess.

The ceiling of the cell lacked these recesses. Instead, it was fitted with nine prominent heavy-duty eyebolts. They formed a square pattern on the ceiling, with three rows of three eyebolts.

"Like your new quarters?" came a disembodied voice. Mystique turned around just as the lights in the cell dimmed. The mirror wall suddenly turned transparent as the lights on the other side was turned on. She saw that the other side of the wall was the office she had been in when she confronted the man. The wall must have been covered then, for she could not remember having observed a glass wall during that disastrous episode. The man was standing behind the glass wall.

"Let me out!" Mystique shouted, hammering on the glass wall with her fists.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Not after all the trouble I went through to catch you." the man said, walking up to the glass. Mystique wished that she could smash right through the glass to grasp at his throat, but the glass did not even tremble under the hammering of her fists.

"What do you want?" Mystique demanded, stopping her hammering, recognizing the futility of her gesture.

"Why, you of course." the man said pleasantly, smiling a thin and evil smile.

"What do you mean?" Mystique asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.

"Surely a clever woman such as yourself would have already understood." the man smiled, "I want you as my slave."

"NEVER!" Mystique screamed in defiance. Instantly, she felt a jolt of electricity shot through her body from her feet, shocking her body into numbness. She fell onto her back, moaning.

"I don't think you understand your situation." the man said pleasantly, "You are in no position to refuse me anything. I want you to recognize that. Indeed, the sooner you understand your new station in life, the easier it will be for you."

Mystique moaned as she got painfully up to all fours again. She twisted her head, and looked at the man in hatred. How she wished she could tear him apart!

The man sighed at this, and pressed the button on his car remote control again. Instantly, Mystique received another shock through her body.

"Arrrgh!" Mystique screamed as she fell flat onto the floor again.

"As you probably would have noticed, the floor and the walls of the cell are fitted with the same kind of electric stun devices as the floor in the office. Since your deliciously blue skin is practically bare, you have no defense against the shocks."

Mystique lifted her torso up on her arms. She was too weak to lift her move her legs, but she refused to give in to the man. She wanted to show him that she would not be beaten easily.

"This will be interesting." Mystique heard the man mutter before she felt another jolt of electricity run through her body again. This time, her body shut down again, plunging her deep into unconsciousness once more.

Mystique swam slowly back into consciousness again. As the darkness receded away, her eyes opened slowly. She found herself lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

"Ahh. You are awake again." said the familiar voice of the man. Mystique looked up to see the man standing over her. The thought formed within her head to strike out with her legs, to kick the man in the balls, but her body from her neck downwards felt strangely numb, and completely unresponsive to the urgent commands of her brain.

"In case you are thinking of doing anything foolish, I'd injected your body with a mild muscle relaxant. You are completely paralyzed for the time being. Don't worry, the effect will wear off eventually."

Mystique's eyes quickly darted from side to side. She saw that she was still in the room. She could not see how the man had come into the room, for all the walls were still in place. She guessed that the mirror wall might be the way in, perhaps sliding to one side to admit the man.

"I wanted to wait until you were awake before I do this. I want you to enjoy every moment of this." the man said. He picked up something and showed it to Mystique. It was a ball gag, consisting of a white rubber ball about two-and-a-half inches in diameter, with an inch-wide white leather strap threaded through the centre of the ball. Placing a hand under Mystique's swan-like neck, he tilted back her head. Then he parted her slack jaws and squeezed the large white ball between her teeth. He lifted her up to a sitting position so that he could pull back the two ends of the white leather strap, and buckle the strap firmly in place.

The man now reached to his side, and picked up another object. From her sitting position, Mystique could look into the mirror wall, and saw that the man was picking up a coil of rope. She also noticed that there were several other coils of rope besides her, to her right.

The man uncoiled the white braided rope and doubled the rope. He draped the doubled white lines of the rope over Mystique's neck. He pulled crossed the lines across to the front of her body, through her cleavage. He crossed the lines between her breasts, forming a cross, before pulling back under her breasts, around the flanks of her body, and then to the back. He fed both the ends under the lines crossing the back of Mystique's neck, then pulled them downwards. This tightened the lines around her body, lifting up the lines under her breasts. Parting the two lines again, he pulled them round her torso to the front, this time over her arms rather than under them. He wrapped the lines around her body at a point just over her breasts, trapping the domes between the white lines, before pulling the lines back.

The man had calculated well. When he pulled the lines back, the loop end of the doubled rope rested almost exactly over Mystique's spine at the point where it curved inwards. He fed the other end through the loop, and pulled the lines taut again. This caused the lines to tighten around her breasts. A soft moan escaped the blue mutant's lips, which was all the protest she could make with her drugged body.

The man pulled the running end of the rope towards her right, away from the looped end. He tucked the end through her arm pit, and pulled the lines down and back, clinching the lines that ran over her right arm, trapping the lines firmly in place so that it would not slip up and over her right shoulder. He pulled the lines across her back, and repeated the process with the lines running over her left arm. Then he pulled back the running end of the rope once more to the maze of lines crisscrossing Mystique's back. He tucked the running end under the bent formed by the rope after it had threaded its way through the looped end, and then pulled the rope taut yet again before tying a knot here to keep the lines tight around Mystique's upper body. This still left him with about a meter of running end. He pulled back Mystique's lower arms, and placed them next to one another. He wrapped the running end a few times around her lower arms, before tying off the end, binding her arms tightly together.

Mystique could see her being put into bondage in the mirror. The stark whiteness of the ball gag in her mouth and the rope binding her body was prominent against the dark blue of her skin, with her breasts bulging out between the lines crisscrossing her body. She had never been placed in bondage like this, although she had seen pictures of women in bondage. She shuddered within to see herself being placed unwillingly into such a situation.

The man now laid Mystique onto her stomach, before picking up a second coil of rope. He doubled the rope, as he did with the first coil of rope, and tied the looped end to the maze of lines crisscrossing Mystique's back. He then took a hold of the running end, and stood up. He reached up by his tip-toes and fed the running end of the rope through one of the eyebolts mounted to the steel ceiling of the cell, the one that stood exactly at the center of the room, over Mystique.

The man knelt down and picked up Mystique's body by her waist. He stood up until she was leaning upright against his body. He pulled on the running end of the second rope until it became taut, and he tucked the running end under the lines of the first rope that were over the blue mutant's back. He quickly fashioned a knot with his right hand, even as he supported Mystique's weight with his left arm encircling her waist. When he was done, he let go of her body and stood back, leaving the scaly shape-shifter to be suspended by the white ropes.

The ropes tightened around Mystique's body as her entire weight came to rest upon them. This caused the lines to bite into the flesh of her torso, particularly her firm breasts. They instantly flattened and bulged out. A soft moan escaped Mystique's lips, the first indication that the drug that she had been given was wearing off.

The man uncoiled a third rope, doubled it, and wrapped the looped end several times around her right ankle before passing the running end through the loop. He pulled the running end back towards the back wall, towards the right-hand corner, away from Mystique.

The man fed the running end through a D-ring at the corner, the one just above the floor. He then pulled on the rope, and led it towards the other corner behind her. As he did so, her right leg was stretched outwards away from her other leg. He passed the running end through a lower D-ring at the left corner, and then pulled the rope back towards her left leg, pulling her right leg out even further. He pulled the end of the rope up to her shapely left leg, picked up her left foot, and tied the running end around her left ankle. Her long slender legs were now spread wide open, tensing the muscles of her thighs and calves, placing them into sharper definition under her blue skin.

The man stood up and walked back round to the front of Mystique. He grabbed her long hair and lifted her head up so that her yellow eyes looked up at him.

"Comfy?" the man asked. Mystique wished she could spit at him, but only another low moan escaped from her lips. The man dropped her head, and put his hand on the scaly right breast of the mutant. He began to knead it in his hand.

"Mmmmmmmm." Mystique moaned both in protest and in helpless frustration at being molested.

"You know, I've always wondered why you don't have nipples." the man said.

"Or why you don't have a vulva or an anus on your crotch." the man added, placing a hand over her crotch, sliding it over the stubble of the scaly skin there, where the vulva or anus should have been.

The man moved his right thumb over the spot where Mystique's right nipple should have been. As he continued to knead her breast with the rest of his fingers, he probed the ridges of the blue scales cascading down the dome of her breast.

"Oh I see, there is something here." the man said mischievously. He tweaked repeatedly at a patch of scaly skin with his thumb and index finger, pinching the scales with his hand. More moans escaped the gagged blue lips of Mystique.

"I can feel your nipples underneath." the man informed Mystique, "Its hardening."

As the man continued tweaking the patch of skin until a wrinkle was formed. The top edge of the wrinkle spread upwards as he continued to pinch and pull at the skin until a top corner peeled away. He pulled at the top edge of the wrinkle, and slowly, the patch of skin began to peel away from Mystique's blue breast. The patch came off to reveal a nipple and its surrounding areola. The dark blue stub of the nipple was soft and fleshy like a normal human nipple, but the areola was more unusual. True, it was of a deeper color than the rest of the skin on the breast, as a normal areola would be. But besides being a deep blue, the skin of the areola was scaly, although the texture was soft and the scales finer than the rest of her breast.

"I see. A glued-on artificial skin patch, made like a nipple shield. Very clever." the man said as he examined the patch of skin in his hand, "It's thick enough to prevent your nipples from extruding through the material, and made to look like part of your natural skin. I suppose that they are made from organic skins with the same DNA make-up as your own skin, so that you can manipulate them as well."

Mystique grunted in hatred as the man dropped the patch of skin onto the floor. Looking into the mirror, she saw her exposed right nipple on her right breast in the mirror, which contrasted with her left breast, the dome of which remained scaly throughout. The man now turned to this breast. He explored the scales over her breast until he located the nipple patch there, and peeled it off her left nipple, dropping it onto the floor. Both her nipples and areolas were now exposed. The man tweaked her right nipple playfully with his finger, causing the blue mutant moaned in protest.

"I wonder if it is the same arrangement with your crotch." The man said as he dropped the second skin patch on the floor and turned to Mystique's crotch. He explored the scales running up from her crotch, trying to find the false scales. He finally located the corner of the patch, rising up the front of her crotch at the area where most women would have their pubic hair. The corner of the patch gave way to his slow assault, and he took hold of the peeled corner, and pulled it steadily down. There was a soft ripping sound as the glued on edges of the patch came away from the skin.

As the skin came off, it was revealed that this part of Mystique's body was scaly, like her breasts. But as the man dislodged more of the patch, he found that she did indeed have a vulva. The thick labia lips of her vulva, although scaly was soft to the touch as he probed them with his fingers, eliciting a moan from the gagged Mystique. Just before the lips was the clitoris hood. Like the labia lips, although it was scaly in appearance, it too felt soft as he pulled down the hood to reveal the blue fleshy knob of her clitoris underneath. Finally, the man pulled back the patch all the way until it revealed the puckered mouth of her anus, before coming off completely as it ended just before the cracks of her buttocks.

"My, my. What an unusual pussy you have. Almost reptilian in appearance." the man commented. Mystique felt hot flashes on her cheeks as she felt a sudden pang of shame. Although Mystique was used to walking around practically naked, with her modesty protected only by the fake patches, the fact that a man had stripped those patches away from her, exposing the most intimate parts of her body, had a traumatic effect on her. She now knew what a human woman would feel if her clothing had been ripped off her. She felt completely helpless and sexually vulnerable.

This shame turned to rage, and Mystique tried to free herself. Although the paralyzing drug was wearing off, her limbs still remained weak, and all she could do was to writhe weakly in the ropes binding her. The man noted this and smiled.

"I would suggest you save your strength. The ropes are quite strong, and as I understand it, superhuman strength is not one of your mutant abilities." the man said, as he stooped to pick up a third coil of rope, "Oh, just in case you are thinking of morphing your body shape to escape from your bonds, I have injected you with a drug that I have just developed. This drug will suppress a certain enzyme in your body which you will need to manipulate your body's molecules in order to change your shape. You see, I have been studying mutants like you for some time now. I was lucky enough to lay my hands on some of your tissue samples obtained from the scene of one of your earlier crimes, and studied it thoroughly. Once I understand the mechanism you used to change your body shape, it was not difficult to develop a way to counter it."

The man doubled the coil of rope in his hands, and wrap the looped end of the rope around Mystique's trim waist like a belt, then fed the running end through the rope. He pulled the lines tight until the rope fit snuggly around her waist. He then pulled the twin lines between Mystique's recently bared crotch. He made a knot at a point where the lines would touch her clitoris. He then made a second knot where the rope would touch her vagina lips. He made a third knot about four inches back from the first, which would be where the lines would touch her anus. He pulled the running end up, and passed the lines under the lines running across the small of her back.

The man pull up and then down, tightening the lines against Mystique's crotch. He knelt down, and moved the first knot over her clitoris hood, pushed the fleshy hood aside so that the rope directly touches the clitoris. He then slipped the second knot between the lips of her vagina into her sensitive tunnel. Finally, he lined up the third knot directly over her anus, and pressed it into the puckered lips. These actions caused Mystique to moan even louder and pulled at her ropes as the sensations from down under sent shock waves through her body.

Now that the knots had been properly positioned, the man now pulled the running end of the rope back and up. He fed the running end through a D-ring directly behind and above Mystique. He pulled the rope down and then pulled the running end back towards Mystique's waist again, which raised Mystique's firm round buttocks up towards the rear. As he continued to pull, her hips rose even higher into the air, until her feet were lifted completely off the ground. Finally the man tied the running end of the rope to the lines around her waist at a point over the small of her back.

Mystique let out a soft whine as she was now left completely suspended by the arrangement. The way she was bound left her body slanted forward at an angle, with her head lulled forward, looking down at the floor. Her buttocks were pointed towards the rear, and her legs spread wide open and off the ground under her. The ropes were biting hard into the soft flesh of her breasts and her crotch, causing her much distress.

"This should leave you something to think about." the man said.

"Oh, one last thing."

The man now took out an object from inside his jacket. It looked like a glossy white PVC fabric version of an aviator's helmet, with its rounded top, and the twin flaps running down the sides, ending with a strap on one end, and twin D-rings on the other. The man placed the helmet over the top of Mystique's head. The front came down all the way to her nose. A cutting in the center left most of her nose exposed, but at the same time allowed the material on either sides of the nose to fit more closely over her eyes, blindfolding her.

The man pulled the flaps down against her cheeks, and then fed the tongue of the strap through the twin D-rings. He then looped the tongue back over the outer D-ring and fed it through the inner D-ring again. Pulling hard, he pulled the strap taut under the chin of the blue mutant, securing the helmet over her head.

With the helmet now snuggly fitted over her head, Mystique discovered that not only did the helmet completely covered her eyes, her ears were covered too. There was something soft and yet thick pressing against each of her ears, muffling all sounds that came from outside. She was thus made deaf as well as blind, leaving her to suffer in her suspension in both silence and darkness.

Mystique did not know how long she had been kept in her stressful position. Her entire world became revolved around the pain in her breasts and her crotch, as the ropes continued to bite into her. With each movement that she made, the rough braided rope around her torso rubbed the top and bottom of her breasts, alternately kneading them and squeezing them. With each movement, the first knot on the rope ground onto her clitoris, stroking it, and making it more sensitive. With each movement, the second knot nestled under her labia lips chafe against the sensitive skin at the mouth of her vagina. With each movement, the third knot was worming into her anus, chafing the skin around her sphincter.

Mystique was being driven wild by the entire arrangement. She could feel her body becoming more and more stimulated by the constant rubbings of the rope. She could feel herself becoming more and more horny. She could feel herself juicing below, becoming more and more wet as her breasts, her clitoris, her vagina mouth and her asshole were all being rubbed at the same time.

Yet, without something shoved deep into her, Mystique could not come. She was being pushed constantly towards the edge of orgasm, but she could not go all the way. This left her more and more frustrated as the ministrations of the rope continued. And so Mystique continued to hang on the ropes binding and suspending her, helpless and juicing. She could not come, and yet she could not stop the ropes from continuing to rub against her most erotic zones. It occurred to her, between moments of frustrations and horniness that this was a very clever form of exquisite torture.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, after what seemed like forever trashing in her rope bondage, Mystique felt a vibration in the rope lifting her buttocks high up into the air. The vibrations continued, and then, she suddenly felt the tension released from her crotch, and she swung forward until her feet brushed the ground. The rope and the knots on her crotch that had been tormenting her were pulled away, chafing her anus and vagina mouth as a final parting gesture.

As Mystique stood panting with her legs apart, she felt more vibrations, this time in the rope lifting her torso up. Shortly, she felt the tension released, and the rope was no longer lifting her up. She sunk onto her knees, her feet still spread wide apart by the ropes binding her ankles.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" asked a disembodied voice right next to her ears. The helmet she was wearing seemed to incorporate some sort of earphones. She did not know it, but the effect the ropes had had on her was obvious. She was dripping wet down below.

For a moment, Mystique thought of saying something suitably defiant, but the frustration that had been building up in her was too much. She just HAD TO COME!

"Fuck me, fuck me!" she wanted to say, but she only mumbled into the white ball gag behind her luscious blue lips. She felt the man moved behind her. Suddenly, Mystique's buttocks exploded into a sea of pain. She felt as if a swarm of bee had stung her rumps.

"MMMMMPH!" Mystique screamed, as she tried to get up. Before even the pain on her buttocks subsided, she felt the blows of tentacles landing mercilessly onto her crotch.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Mystique howled into her gag. She knew that she was being whipped. The man was probably using something with many sharp tentacles, perhaps a cat-o-nine tails.

A flood of stinging pain now poured in from Mystique's left breast, causing her to throw back her head and twist her body. The blow had been expertly aimed, and she could feel the braided leather of the tentacles wrap themselves around her breast as they landed, biting into her scaly skin, and setting fire to her nipple. She pulled at the ropes binding her torso and her ankles, trying to find some way to get away. This was, of course, all futile.

"MMMMMMPH!" Mystique screamed again as the merciless tentacles struck her again, this time landing on her right breast.

Mystique's captor continued with the whipping for some time, alternating the target of his punishment between her crotch, and her breasts. She twisted and bucked and screamed, but she could not move away from her torment, not with her ankles still bound by rope. At last, she could take no more, and she collapsed onto her stomach, panting, with residues of pain all over her body.

Mystique laid panting on the floor for a while. The man allowed her to rest, as perspiration beaded her blue scaly body. Then, she felt the man took a hold of her hips, and pulled her hips up and back until her buttocks were raised up. As her body slid back, the weight of her torso came to rest on her forehead.

Suddenly, Mystique felt something warm and hard probe at her labia lips. Her body instantly responded. A penis! A fucking penis! It was what her body had hungered for, what her body had been made so ready for the ropes.

As Mystique felt the warm hard flesh push aside her labia lips and enter her tunnel, she moaned into her ball-gag. The man was fucking her! All the pant-up sexual frustrations seemed to explode at the same time within Mystique. She started to rock her hips, pushing back her buttocks in unison with the motion of the man as he entered her, and begin to slide his penis up and down her vagina. She could feel an orgasm built up within her even as she slurped up the stew and water.

"Mph! Mph! Mph!" Mystique panted as the man pounded into her from behind, his stiff manhood sliding aggressively up and down her tunnel. The sensation was electric, and she could feel her body inching steadily towards an orgasm.

"Uhhhmmmmm!" Mystique screamed at last as she felt her body released. But the man did not stop there. He had not reached orgasm himself, and he continued to hammer away at her vagina. Mystique's body was so stimulated by the ropes and so starved that it built up towards a climax again.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Mystique moaned into her ballgag as she reached orgasm a second time, just as the man, too, reached release, ejaculating his sperm deep into her tunnel. He let out a long sigh, and pulled himself out of her.

Mystique slumped forward onto her stomach once more, panting. She could not believe how quickly the overwhelming feeling of satiation had replaced the sensations of pain from the whipping from just a moment ago. She could not believe how she had actually responded with such hunger to what was in effect a rape. That thought gave her a start. She had just been raped. She should have felt traumatized, but instead, she had welcomed it. Deep within her, Mystique understood that she had just taken a first step towards sexual slavery.

These thoughts were cut short as Mystique felt a hand grip the lines running across her backs like a handle. A powerful tug pulled her up into a kneeling position. Another heave brought her up to her feet. As Mystique stood unsteadily on her wobbly legs, she felt an upward tug on the rope that had kept her suspended from the eyebolt in the ceiling. Soon, she felt herself being hoisted up again until she was standing precariously on tiptoes. Then she felt the rope tied to her waist and snaking between her legs pulled back, and the knots were placed back against her crotch, lining up against their intended targets.

"MMMMMMMPH!" Mystique moaned as her buttocks were raised high up into the air once again, even higher and further back then the first time, adding even more tension to her tortured crotch and breasts. The man proved merciless. He tied off the rope lifting her buttocks up and then left her once more to her lonely bondage, accompanied only by the constant chafing in her sensitive body parts. Mystique could do nothing but writhe in her bondage, letting out moans and whines. It took a long while before physical exhaustion finally sent her into a deep sleep.

Mystique woke up to vibrations in the rope lifting her buttocks high up. The rope was released, and she was dropped onto the balls of her feet. A moment later, she felt the tension in the rope holding her up slackened and released. Mystique sank gratefully onto her knees. As she knelt on the floor with her legs spread open, she felt the straps holding the helmet down over her head being fiddled with, and it became undone. Then, the helmet was ripped off her head, and light flooded back into her world again.

For a while, Mystique was forced to close her yellow eyes as they had become unused to the bright light during the prolonged period that she had been kept blindfolded. At last, when she opened them, she saw her captor standing over her. He used a hand to press her head down. Then he unbuckled the white strap holding the white ball gag in her mouth. Raising her head up with a hand under her chin, the man pulled the ball gag out from Mystique's aching jaws, as spittle drooled out from a corner of her blue mouth.

The man dropped the ball gag on the floor. He now turned to a flat box behind him, and pulled off its airtight cover. Instantly, the smell of hot food filled Mystique's nostril. Mystique's yellow eyes opened wide, and she realized that she was hungry, very hungry, indeed. The box had two compartments, one filled with a brownish steaming stew of unidentifiable origin, and the other filled with water.

The man walked around to Mystique's back. Before she knew it, the man planted a foot on her back, and pushed her over onto her stomach. The landing was hard on the metal floor, and she felt the sting on her breasts.

"You have five minutes to eat and drink." The man said, and stood back.

Mystique lifted her head up. The tray was just in front of her. And yet, it was just out of reach.

"I ... I can't reach the tray." Mystique said hoarsely.

"Not my problem." The man said coldly.

Mystique almost burst out in tears with frustration. She wrestled with herself to keep the tears back, and tried to inch forward towards the tray. The ropes binding her ankles would only stretch a little, allow her nose to get almost to the tray, but it was no good. The tray was so near, and yet so far.

"Time's up." The man said.

"Wait..."

"Speak only when spoken to!" the man roared. Before Mystique knew it, she felt stings of pain on her crotch again. She looked up to see the man wielding a cat-o-nine tails. He was merciless, smacking down at her exposed crotch and buttocks with determined strokes. Mystique could do nothing to defend herself, with her legs spread wide open. She could only twist and turn her body to try to get away, but every time she twisted to one side or the other, she exposed her breasts, allowing the man to strike well aimed blows at her scaly domes. She would howl even more, and quickly tried to protect her breasts by laying down flat, at which point the man would return his attention to her crotch or her buttocks.

Finally, Mystique became too hoarse to scream anymore. She could only moan and weakly endure the punishment. When the man finally stopped, she was too weak to even mumble a protest as he pulled her up to a kneeling position, then grabbed her chin, tilting her head back.

The man forced her jaws apart and stuffed the white rubber ball gag back into her mouth. Then he pulled back the ends of the strap round to the back of her head. She felt him secure the buckle behind the back of her neck, keeping the ball firmly in place. Then, the man replaced the bondage helmet over her head again, once more plunging her into blindness and silence. In a moment, she was hoisted up into the air once more, and placed back into the familiar arrangement, with the three knots grinding into her erotic spots, and her buttocks raised high up in the air.

Mystique could only groan into her rubber gag at this cruel treatment.

The man repeated this sadistic tantalizing arrangement several times. He would return and wake her up from her exhausted slumber, lower her down onto her knees, and kicked her onto her stomach. It would always be impossible for her to reach the food right in front of her, in one way or the other.

The second time this happened, the man had kept the white ball gag in Mystique's mouth.

"Do you want to feed, slave?" the man had asked, looking down at the bound mutant.

Mystique had nodded weakly. The man had gone around her, and planted a foot on her back again, toppling her forward again. This time, the box had been placed in such a position that her face fell into the stew. She only had time to hold her breath to prevent the stew from going up her nose.

"Eat! Five minutes!" the man had ordered.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" Mystique had cried in anguish, lifting her face out of the food. With the ball gag still residing in her mouth, she could not eat. She could almost taste the food, yet she could not indulge in it.

"Do you refuse to eat slave?" the man had asked, "Perhaps the food is not to your taste?"

Mystique had glared up at the man with hatred.

"Still feisty I see. For that you shall be punished!"

Mystique had screamed into her gag as she was whipped mercilessly once more. Indeed, she would be constantly punished, whipped mercilessly, for the slightest misdeed on her part, or even for no reason at all.

Mystique began to wonder if the man was going to starve her to death in the most cruel way possible. She was ravenous with hunger and thirst. As her body hung in the severe bondage, it was all she could think about.

By the time, the man had allowed Mystique to feed, she had become far too exhausted and hungry to do anything but kneel docilely on her knees. The sight of the blue mutant kneeling weak and defeated before him apparently had pleased the man. He had removed her gag, and asked, "Do you want to feed, slave?"

Mystique had nodded dumbly.

"I cannot hear you, slave!"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

Mystique had hesitated, but the hunger and thirst pushed her past the threshold, from denying the fact of her slavery, to accepting it.

"Yes...yes Master..."

Mystique had no choice but to accept her lowly status.

"Louder!"

"YES MASTER!" Mystique had said with all the remaining strength she could muster.

"Good, good." The man had said pleasantly. He had pulled Mystique's body forward again, and had lowered her body down to the floor. This time, the tray was within reach of her mouth, and nothing blocked the way. The mutant had fed hungrily despite her strange feeding position, resting on her stomach with her arms bound behind her, and her legs spread wide open.

When Mystique had cleaned up the last morsel of the stew with her tongue, and lapped up the last drop of water, the man had lifted her hips up into position, and he had raped her again. Then she had been gagged once more, and the bondage helmet placed over her head.

The man had then lifted Mystique up to a kneeling position. But instead of putting her back into suspension again, the man had pulled Mystique back until she was sitting on her buttocks, leaning against the wall, her legs still held wide open by the ends of the rope binding her ankles.

"Because you have been so obedient, I will allow you to rest for tonight." The man had said as he removed the rope that had been girdled around her waist and crotch. Then she had been left alone again, once more in a dark and silent world. But this time, she had fallen quickly into an exhausted sleep.

Mystique moaned into her white ball gag.

"Stay still or you will be punished." the man rebuked her, as he hoisted her left leg high up into the air, leaving the blue scaly mutant standing tip-toed on her right foot. Her body had remained hoisted up to the eyebolt in the center of the room, with the white rope crisscrossing her torso, squeezing her breasts.

The man had released the white rope that had girdled her crotch for the time being, although it remained tied around her waist with the long running end trailing on the floor. He had also untied her right ankle. Leaving one end of the rope tied around her left ankle, the man had taken the other end of the rope, and fed that end through an eyebolt on the ceiling to her left. He had then pulled down the end of the rope to hoist her leg up.

It had been a week or so since she had first been allowed to feed and drink. Or, rather, what Mystique thought was a week or so. In fact, she could not be sure. She was not sure how long she had been a captive of the man in a cell behind his office. There was nothing to tell her which day it was or what time it was. There was no clock or calender that she could see. She had even tried to take a look at the man's watch, but saw that he was not wearing one, although there was the red impression of the back of the watch on his left wrist.

The man would use words like "tonight" or "this morning" or "in the afternoon" when he barked his commands at her, but Mystique could never be sure if he was telling the truth with regards to the time of the day. Even if he was telling the truth, she could not be certain which night or which morning he was referring to. In truth, she had lost all track of time.

During that 'week', things had followed a certain routine. Mystique would spend most of her time in total darkness and silence, except for the occasions when the man would play loud heavy metal music on the earphones inserted into the bondage helmet. Otherwise she had only the sensations of the rope gripping her breasts and crotch for company.

The man would only feed Mystique when she was on her knees, with her legs properly lowered. If he was not satisfied with the angle of her head, or if her attitude was judged not to be sufficiently submissive, she would not be fed and watered. After a few occasions, she learnt what was expected of her, and she would never dare to raise her yellow eyes to look at his directly, unless told to do so.

If Mystique pleased the man, and she could never be sure how she had pleased or angered him, he would 'reward' her by raping her. It was a 'reward' for, much to her surprise, the blue mutant found that she would become almost instantly horny when the three knots of the crotch rope were put back into position. If she was left for too long without sexual release, she would writhe and twist in her bondage, trying to find release by grinding the knots deeper into her.

This sexual frustration almost always became as much of a hunger for Mystique as the need for food. More often than not, she would become more and more desperate, with the darkness and silence filled with more anxiety, until the man returned. She would be so delirious that she would beg the man to use her.

When coherent thoughts returned to Mystique's mind once in a while, she would feel a tinge of shame as she realized that she had been turned into a horny slave, and her existence had become nothing more than feeding and rape sessions. She was totally dependent on the man for all aspects of her life, bound as she was. When she felt like relieving herself, she had to wait for the man to return, and begged him to let her go. It always amuses him when she did so. He even told her that she was to whine like a desperate dog when she wanted to go. It was humiliating to do it the first time, but as with the other indignities, she was soon used to it.

The man would return with a portable chemical toilet, which he would put behind Mystique. He would take off her bondage helmet for he wanted her to always see herself using the toilet with him watching her. He would lower her back onto the bucket. With her legs spread wide open by the rope binding her ankles, she had no difficulty relieving herself. He would then clean her. This brought her much shame at first, being touched by the man in such a way, to be so dependent on him. But soon she realized how absurd this was, given the sexual abuse and rapes that she had endured. Her body was the man's to use as he pleased, and she was helpless to stop him in her current situation.

"Stand still!" the man barked again, snapping Mystique's mind back to the present. She tried to adjust her body to balance better on the ball of her right foot, but it was almost impossible, and she was swaying about.

The white PVC fabric bondage helmet that had been on Mystique's head was on the floor, where the man had flung it after taking it off her head. It was wet with her perspiration. There was another several objects on the floor next to it. Two of them were made of white rubber, but they were different in shape. One was cylindrical, with a blunt tip, and a round plastic screw cap. It was obviously a dildo. The other was cone-shaped for most of its length, with a flanged base, ending with a round plastic screw cap as well. Mystique recognized this to be a butt-plug. A third object was a translucent plastic tube filled with a viscous liquid of some sort, with a plastic spring cap closing its mouth. Probably lubricant, Mystique thought.

The man stepped back and admired his handiwork. Her wide spread legs presented him with a clear view of her crotch, with its scaly blue labia lips and clitoris hood.

"And now to make it more challenging." the man said. He bent down, and picked up an object, the white dildo.

"Say ah!" the man teased as he placed the tip of the white rubber dildo to Mystique's soft nether lips. He pushed it in insistently. Mystique bit down on the rubber gag in her mouth, and tried to spread her legs even wider to accommodate the object. Its diameter felt impossibly large, and she whined and moaned as it was slid into her. It certainly felt larger than any penis that she had been exposed to before. It was far too large. It could have been a fair representation of the size of a horse's or a cow's penis. It felt as if it would rip her vagina apart as it entered deeper and deeper into her.

Mystique writhed in her bondage, and grunted as the man slid it up and down her vagina as he tried to make it go in as far as possible. This was rapidly producing an effect on her. Mystique was becoming more and more aroused, and she could feel herself juicing prodigiously below, with the wetness spilling beyond her vagina down her legs.

If Mystique could look at her own vulva now, she would see that the mouth of her vagina had been stretched wide-open to accommodate the dildo. With the circular end of the dildo, the effect bore a striking resemblance to her gagged mouth.

"Don't let it fall out, or you will be punished." the man ordered.

Mystique clinched her vagina muscle around the large dildo. It was easier said than done. The monster was huge, and her vagina was well lubricated. Indeed, clinching her vagina muscle seemed to have the exact effect of what she intended. She could feel it beginning to slide out of her, and she tried desperately to prevent it from doing so, twisting and turning in her bondage.

The man got up and pushed the dildo back into position.

"That's one strike." the man said. He was holding both the butt-plug and the tube of lubricant in his left hand. He transferred the butt-plug to his right hand, and popped open the spring cap on the tube of lubricant with his left hand. He poured a generous amount of lubricant over the tip and body of the butt-plug.

The man aimed the tip of the butt-plug at the tight hole of her anus. Mystique braced herself for its entry. This would be a novel experience for her. She had never had something inserted into her anus before, although she had been fairly adventurous in her sexual activities. Being taken in her asshole just did not appeal to her. But now, an intruder was going to be placed in her anus, whether she liked it or not.

Soon, Mystique felt the rubbery tip touching her anus. The sharper tip of the object made it easy for the man to push it through her anus. He worked it slowly, pulling it to and fro to give her sphincter muscle a chance to expand and accommodate itself to the object. That was a good thing, for like its companion, this one was also of unusually large girth. Mystique grunted as it was manipulated into her. Despite the lubrication and the man's careful movements, she still felt shocks of pain run up her spine as her sphincter stretched beyond what she was used to. It seemed to take forever before she felt the butt-plug pop into place as her sphincter closed around a thin flanged base. The rubber object seemed to fill her rectum entirely, making her feel as if she needed to shit.

As the man was inserting the butt-plug into her, Mystique had involuntarily clinched both the vagina muscle, which once again attempted to expel the monster inserted within it. It began slid out once more. The man caught it in time once more.

"That's two strikes. Make sure it doesn't happen again."

Mystique could only look at the man with pleading yellow eyes. It was not fair. It was not within her control.

As if the man knew this, he picked up the running end of the rope tied around her waist. He pulled it between her legs across the bases of the dildo and the butt-plug. He had not bothered to untie the knots. The first one went over her clitoris as usual, but the other two knots rested on the base of the dildo and butt-plug. He passed the running end up between the cracks of her buttocks to the lines across the small of her back. He tied a knot here to secure the running end to the lines, then pulled the remaining length back towards the back wall again, securing the other end once more to a high D-ring behind Mystique. She was now not only forced to stand on tiptoe, but to arch her waist back. It was a terribly awkward position.

"Let's make this more challenging, shall we?" the man asked rhetorically. Mystique could only shake her head in protest. It, of course, did not help. The man walked to one corner of the room, and returned with a plain drinking glass. He squatted down before her right leg, and turned the glass over so that the mouth rested on the steel floor. He then lifted her right foot off the floor, and placed the glass where the foot had rested. He then placed Mystique's foot back on the bottom of the glass.

"If you fall off or kick the glass away, that's strike three." The man explained. Mystique whined softly through her ball gag. It was almost impossible to balance on the tiny surface. But worse was to come. The man went behind her and she could feel him adjust the rope holding her up. With a quick tug and pull down, she felt herself hoisted even higher, such that she could only balance on the glass with the ball of her right leg. She felt the man tied off the resultant slack,leaving her at the higher elevation.

"MMMMPH!" Mystique protested.

But the man wasn't done yet. He took out a remote control from his pants pocket, and pressed a button on it. Instantly, the dildo and butt-plug inserted into her sprung to live. Mystique's yellow eyes turned almost as wide as saucers as waves of powerful vibrations pulsed through her body, shaking her to the core. She tried to maintain her balance on top of the glass, making use of all her training and experience, but the dildo and butt-plug within of her were just too distracting.

The inevitable happened. A moment's loss of concentration caused Mystique's foot to slip off the glass. To make matter worse, her foot accidentally kicked the glass away from her. The glass rolled across the cell, coming to rest against a wall, leaving Mystique hanging in the air. She tried desperately to regain her balance, and found that if she extended her right foot straight all the way down, she could just touch the floor with the tip of her two largest toes.

It was painful, but Mystique had no choice. Otherwise, her entire body weight would have been taken up by the torso rope and the crotch rope. She ought to be used to this by now, but the two sex toys inserted into her added a new dimension to her torment. Any more weight placed on the crotch rope would drive the toys deeper into her, making the pulses of vibration even more jarring. Given their sizes, they were already difficult for her orifices to accept. Any movement further in would rapidly add to her discomforts exponentially.

As if this was not enough, the powerful vibrations of the dildo and the butt-plug were transmitted through the crotch rope to the knot resting against Mystique's clitoris. The knot was chafing her knob at an incredible speed, stimulating it, adding to her already overloaded senses.

"MMMMMMPH!" Mystique moaned as she thrashed in her agony.

"That is strike three." Mystique vaguely heard the man said. She was past caring now. Nothing could be worse than what she was enduring now. She was not quite correct in that. When the man began to whip her on her buttocks and her breasts, the stings from the whip only added to the waves of sensations crashing into her mind. All the sensations of pleasure and pain, stressed muscles and stretched orifices, rushed into her mind, in succeeding waves until her mind could not handle it anymore, and was forced to shut down. Thankfully, unconsciousness claimed Mystique, plunging her into darkness.

This terrible ordeal repeated itself over the next couple of weeks. Mystique would be placed in the impossible position for hours on end each time, trying to balance herself on a tiny point on top of the glass with the balls of her feet. The man made it a point to alternate her legs, so that it would be her right foot one time, and her left foot another. The man called it training, but she could not imagine what the training was for.

It was so bad that when the man placed her in the previous pattern of suspension, Mystique actually found it quite easy. But that was few and far in between now. This new pattern had become the usual pattern. At the end of the 'training', she would collapse onto the floor, completely drained. The man would then remove the dildo and the butt-plug from her lower orifices, put the bondage hood back on her head again, and allowed her to rest.

Over time, however, Mystique found that she was increasingly able to balance on the balls of her feet, such that even when the monsters within her shook her to the core, she was able to maintain her balance... more or less.

But no sooner had she learnt how to do this that the man made it harder. He substituted the glass for a saucer. This forced Mystique to put most of her weight on the tips of her toes, like a ballerina. The first few times was just awful. She was completely unable to keep the tips of her large toes resting on the saucer. She would, of course, be punished for this by a sound whipping. It took her a week more before she could learn to balance on the tips of her large toes.

Finally, one day, the 'training' came to an end. Mystique had been allowed to rest flat on her back, with her ankles tied to D-rings on opposing walls, which spread her legs wide open. She was rarely, if ever, allowed to keep her legs closed by the man. As far as she could remember, her legs were always spread open in one way or another.

Mystique was awoken by a touch of a pair of hands that lifted her up to a sitting position with her legs still spread open. A few moments later, something heavy and leathery was slipped over her right foot. The object felt like a shoe. More precisely, it was a boot, as she soon realized, when the man untied her right ankle, and she felt the leather cuff of the boot being pulled up her lower leg. This was followed by jerks and tugs that progressed up her leg, which could only come from the laces of the boot being done.

There was something strange about the boot. It did not seem to have a conventional toe. Instead, it seemed as if goes straight into a point, forcing the toes of her foot to point straight down. She guessed that it must have been one of those fetish shoes that she had seen on some kinky websites before, which forced the wearing to standing ballerina-like, on tiptoes. Suddenly, all the man's talk of 'training' made sense.

When the man was done with her right leg, Mystique felt the man shift to her left ankle, and untied it, before putting another boot on her left leg. This felt exactly the same as the first boot, with its stiff top laced tightly around her lower leg and the rigid shank that held her left foot pointing firmly downwards.

When the man completed putting the boots on her feet, he turned Mystique around until she was in a kneeling position. Then he bent her over at her waist until her upper chest was resting on the floor, with her buttocks raised up into the air and her head turned to one side. She was familiar with this position now, and knew what was coming. Sure enough, she felt the blunt rubber tip of the dildo pressed against her labia lips. It was well lubricated already, and it slipped easily into her, even though she was not juicing at the moment. This was followed shortly by its companion, the butt-plug, also well lubricated. By now, her sphincter able to open up its mouth large enough to accept the monster without too much pain.

Finally, to hold everything in place, the man positioned the customary crotch rope around Mystique's waist, before pulling down the running end between her legs and over the base of the two sex toys. She felt him tie the running end to the lines across her back, tugging and tightening it, which caused the dildo and butt-plug within her to jostle.

The man now pulled Mystique back to a kneeling position. Then, with an arm encircled around her waist, she felt herself lifted bodily up into a standing position. This placed her weight crushing down on the tips of her toes on both feet. Training or not, Mystique was not used to this at all, and it was an agonizing trial. She had great difficulty balancing. The boots helped to brace her feet, ankles, and lower legs, but she still almost toppled over a few times as her body struggled to learn how to balance in those impossible shoes. Each time, the man would catch her, and return her to an upright position. And each time the man did this, Mystique would earn a solid whack on her buttocks from what felt like a riding crop.

Finally, the man seemed to lose patience with her constant toppling. She felt him hold her by the waist. Then she felt the usual sensations of the man preparing to suspend her from the eyebolt in the ceiling. She whined a bit into her ball gag, but the man ignored her. Soon enough, she felt the tension in the lines encircling her torso, and felt the grip on her breasts tightened.

The man was not done yet. There must have been a long running end left from the rope around her waist and crotch. Mystique felt the end of the rope being tugged and pulled up, then swiftly secured to the lines of the rope suspending her. He made sure that there was no slack at all.

The man now let go of the blue mutant. Mystique found that the entire arrangement was such that she had to stand on tiptoes or otherwise her entire body weight would be transferred to the torso rope and crotch rope. This not only caused the torso rope to tightened painfully around her scaly breasts, but also place heavy pressure on the two sex toys within of her, pushing them uncomfortably high up into her orifices. All this could only be avoided by standing on her tiptoes.

The man now unbuckled Mystique's bondage hood, and ripped it off her head. Mystique found herself staring into the mirror in front of her. She was amazed at how tall she looked, standing on the tips of her toes. Her legs were spread out slightly. The boots on them were made from white PVC and reached up to her knees. There were no soles to speak off, only a flat cap at the tip of each toe of the boots. A long high heel on the back of each boot helped to act as a sort of support, although most of the weight of her body was still resting on her toes.

Mystique guessed that the boots must have boosted her height by as much as six or seven inches, for she now towered over the man, who was busy uncoiling and doubling a rope. He placed her long scaly legs together, next to one another, so that her ankles meet. He then tied her thighs together with one end of the rope at a point just above her knees. He stretched the running end down to her ankles, and quickly lashed them together.

Mystique's legs were now pressed firmly together at the knees and ankles. This had the effect of helping to push up the dildo and butt-plug within her, increasing her discomfort. But it was still not as bad as it would be if she lost her balance.

"This ought to teach you how to stand properly." the man said, satisfied. Then he took the remote control for her sex toys out from his pocket, and pressed down on the button on it. Instantly, the dildo and butt-plug roared into life, worming deep within her, sending waves of pleasure up Mystique's shapely body.

As her body convulsed, Mystique tried desperately to maintain her balance, but it was very difficult. Eventually, the inevitable happened, and she toppled. Her entire body weight was suddenly resting on the ropes. This shoved the dildo and butt-plug high up into her, even as the rope around her torso squeezed down hard on her breasts.

Mystique could only scream and scream into her gag.

Mystique was trained to stand in her ballet-boots for most of the following 'week'. Eventually, she learnt how to stand upright, without toppling over, even with her legs bound together, and with the dildo and butt-plug wracking havoc inside her lower orifices.

The ballet shoes were never removed from Mystique's feet during that period of time. Even when she rested, ate and relieved herself, the boots would remain on her feet, so much so that it had become part of her.

Indeed, Mystique had come to appreciate how the ballet boots made her look. The boots forced her calf and thigh muscles to tense when she stood in them, and they made her thrust chest forward and her buttocks back to maintain her balance. This reminded her of the exaggerated posture of hookers waiting on the streets, but it did make her body seemed even more sexually appealing.

"Now that you know how to stand, it is time you learn how to walk." the man said one morning after he had fed her and fucked her. She was once more on her knees, crouching down with her buttocks raised as the man inserted the dildo and butt-plug back into her for the day's training.

But the man added one additional touch to the regular dildo and butt-plug arrangement. He took a tiny silver bulb and pressed it against her clitoris, nestling the bulb under her blue scaly clitoris hood. He used a round plaster to hold the bulb pressed firmly against her clitoris. The bulb had a long wire running out of one end, which led to a single prong silver plug. A rope had already been tied around Mystique's waist, with the usual long running end. The man pulled the running end down over her crotch, then back up the crack of her buttocks, before tying it securely to the lines around her waist, just over her spine.

"Stand up." the man ordered.

Mystique raised her torso up until she was in a kneeling position. Then she carefully turned to one side as she raised a knee. It had taken her awhile to learn how to get up and lower herself. With the ballet boots on her feet, these movements were minor feats in themselves. She found that she had to turn her body to one side as she lower herself down on one knee, then turn back to the front again and lower the other knee. Rising would require her to do the same, by first turning to one side and raising one knee, planting the tips of her boot on that leg on the floor first, then turning back, and as she raise her body, she would quickly planted the tips of the other boot on the floor and balance herself before she fall back. She managed to do this with some dexterity after a while, especially with some encouragement from the man, who always had a riding crop handy.

Mystique was now standing tall before the man, but she was still required to maintain the correct attitude by keeping her head submissively lowered, or she would be punished. As she looked down at her breasts, the man came forward with two round plasters. She saw that a small silver bulb, exactly like the one that he had placed against her clitoris, had been placed in the center of each of the plaster. He pasted the plasters over her nipples, with the bulbs resting on the blue stubs. The wires from the bulbs trailed down towards the floor, with the same plugs dangling at their ends.

The man picked up a white box from a bag on the floor, the same bag from which he had kept all the instruments he was using on her. The white plastic box had a number of sockets in them, which looked as if they would fit the plugs from the silver bulbs. He went round behind her, and she felt him clip the box to the rope around her waist. Then she felt him pull up the wire attached to the bulb on her clitoris, and heard the dull click of the plug being pushed into place. He reached round to the front, and fished up the other two plugs, and these two were inserted into place.

The man now took up a short length of white rope, and tied it to her torso rope, at the point where the lines crisscrossed between her breasts. The man then pulled on this rope like a leash, forcing Mystique to take a few tentative steps forward.

Mystique tried to follow as well as she could, but she had barely learnt how to stand in her shoes, and it took some effort to make sure she did not fall over as she moved forward. The man led her slowly towards one side of the room. When they reached the wall there, the man reached into his pocket.

To Mystique's surprise, there was a very soft thud, and the wall seemed to swing back like a door. Despite the fact that she had been kept in captivity in the cell for, probably, more than a month now, she had never guessed that the wall could move.

The man tugged on the leash rope, and forced Mystique to step through the doorway. She found that there was another room next to the cell, set at an angle to the right of the doorway. It was of similar dimension to her cell. But unlike the previous room, this room had mirrors on three sides. There was a set of railings in the middle of the room. The furthest railing was placed across the middle of the room and about a foot in length. The other two railings were placed perpendicularly to this first railing, pointing back towards the door.

The railing surrounded on three sides what at first looked like a rubber pad on the floor, leaving the rear of the pad open. It had a curious white line printed down the middle of the pad.

"Onto the rubber." the man ordered.

The blue mutant obeyed, and tottered carefully up onto the pad, standing between the railings. The man pulled the leash rope forward, and tied the other end to the railing in front of Mystique. He went round to her back, and picked up the rope that usually keep her suspended. The rope was still tied to her torso rope. He reached up and passed the end of the rope through an eyebolt in the ceiling, and then pulled the end back down and secured it to her torso rope.

"Put one foot in front of the other!" the man ordered. Mystique did as she was told, trying to put one foot in front of the other. The rubber under her moved as she stepped forward, and she realized that she was on a thread-mill.

"Follow the white line!" the man barked. Mystique obeyed his command, and tried as best as she could to put one ballet-booted foot in front of the other, as close to the white line as she could. She had to take very small steps, or she would fall. When this happened, the ropes would bite her hard and the toys be shoved up deep into her, until she regained her balance again and got onto her feet.

The man let Mystique adjust herself to walking on the thread mill for a while. Then he gave his third order.

"Faster!" the man shouted. Mystique tried to increase her speed, but it was difficult to do so without falling over. This naturally meant that the man would not be satisfied with her slow progress.

"Looks like you need some encouragement." the man said, putting his hand in his pocket.

The blue mutant did not expect what was to happen next. Suddenly, she was stung on her nipples and her clitoris, almost as if she had been bitten by insects in all three of her sensitive knobs. The shock made her lose her balance. She regained her balance, but before she could start walking again, she felt the stings again. She screamed into her ball gag, and once more toppled to one side with the usual results.

"Just in case you are wondering, I've placed electric shockers on your nipples and clitoris. Every time I press this button, you will get a short jolt of electricity in them. Walk!"

Mystique fixed the man with a look of pure hate with her eyes, but she could not defy the man. She got onto her feet again, and once more put one foot before the other.

She was to be punished with the electric shocker numerous times before the day was done. The man would find fault with everything. If she did not keep close enough to the white line, she would be shocked. If she did not move fast enough, she would be shocked.

At one point, the man had switched on the dildo and butt-plug inside of her, and the power shocks made walking the line even more difficult, and for that, Mystique was punished again with electric jolts to her nipples and clitoris.

It was all more than the blue mutant could stand, and drops of tears welled out of the corner of her yellow eyes, rolling down her face as she continued with her training under the merciless tutelage of the man.

Over the next 'week', Mystique was trained intensely in walking on the tips of her toes. It was not easy, but the man 'encouraged' her by jolts of electricity to her nipples and clitoris. By the end of the 'week', however, she was able to walk in a straight line, placing one foot directly in front of the other, like a catwalk model. This caused her firm blue scaly buttocks to gyrate up-and-down, to-and-fro, behind her with every step that she took. Together with the tension placed in her thighs and calves by standing on tip-toes, this made her look very sexy indeed.

The training stopped one day. The man had taken her off the thread mill and led her back to the cell, where he had untied the leash rope and the suspension rope. Then he made her kneel down and raise her buttocks, before untying the crotch rope, and pulling the toys out of her.

But the man did not stop there. He untied her lower arms. Her lower arms had been bound against one another ever since she was first captured, so much so that when her arms were lowered on either side of her, she felt strange. Her upper arms were still bound uselessly to her body though, so she could not make any dangerous moves.

In any case, the limited and very small window of opportunity soon passed. The man tied one end of the rope that had kept her legs spread open to her left ankle. He tied it in such a way that there was a long end. He placed Mystique's left wrist against her left ankle, and used the loose end to bind her wrist to the ankle. He reached around to her right hand side, and did the same there, tying her right wrist to her right ankle. Mystique found herself bound once more with her legs apart.

It was only when the man had thus secured her wrists that the man reached for the ropes binding Mystique's torso. He quickly untied the rope from her blue body, releasing her breasts that had been squeezed by the rope for so long.

The man got up and walked to a corner of the cell. Mystique saw that he had left a bag there. The bag was already opened, and he picked up an item from within the bag. She saw that it was a corset made of glossy white PVC. It looked stiff and heavy in the man's hands as he walked back towards Mystique. He got behind her again, and placed the corset around her narrow waist.

Mystique found that the hem of the corset reached down almost to the top of her thighs in her kneeling position. The corset had been stiffened by bones at regular intervals. As the corset was placed around her waist she could feel the rigidity of the bones pressing against her ribcage and her hips. The corset opened in front, and was secured by steel hooks and loops running down either sides of the opening. The man reached under her arms and round to her front, and rested his chin on her right shoulder, as he secured the hooks and loops, starting from the top, where the corset reached up between her breasts, high into her cleavage. It took him a while to work his way down to the hem of the corset.

The corset rose up on either side of both her breasts, all the way up to her armpits, encircling her breasts in a semi-circle round the bottoms. Mystique saw that the corset had two cups for her breasts. But the cups did not cover her breasts completely. Rather, they only lifted up the bottoms of her scaly breasts, leaving her blue nipples completely uncovered and open to view.

The man was behind her, working furiously at the lacing that ran up the entire length of the back. Mystique could feel the laces steadily being tightened, causing the corset to trap her in a tighter and tighter embrace. The bones, probably made of steel rods, dug deeper and deeper into her waist, reducing its size bit by bit. It became quite difficult for Mystique to breathe, and she had to take a series of short breaths to take in enough air. Finally, she felt the man complete his task, and knotting the laces over the small of her back.

Mystique looked up at the mirror wall to see her own reflection. She was stunned at the figure that looked back at her. Her waist length must have been reduced by at least a couple of inches. The cut of the corset was such that her covered hips bulged out prominently on either side of her waist. Her breasts had been pushed up by the support of the cups, such that the bulge normally formed on the underside of each of the breast was now appeared on the top. Her breasts looked like two blue fruits presented on a plate.

"I had the tailor make the corset from crocodile-skin patterned white PVC cloth." The man informed Mystique. She looked down, and saw that the man was right. Rather than a smooth glossy surface of white PVC, the fabric had a pattern embossed into the PVC surface, resembling that of crocodile skin leather products.

"I thought the pattern would match your skin texture." The man said. Mystique had to admit that he was right. The pattern did contrast very well against the blue scales of her skin.

The man went back to the bag and took out another item. When he returned, Mystique saw that it was a bondage mono-glove, a tube of leather that narrowed from the mouth to the sealed tip. It was made from the same crocodile-skin patterned PVC fabric as her corset, and had a large steel ring bolted to the tip.

The mono-glove had a length-wise opening running down its back, with grommets running either sides of the opening. A long lacing was fitted to the bottom two grommets on either side. The mouth of the mono-glove was fitted with a thick belt, which was now unbuckled. Two white leather straps were attached to this belt, rising up from the either side of the mouth.

The man pulled back Mystique's scale covered arms and brought them as close together as her bondage would allow. He then placed the belt of the mono-glove around her upper arms, just above the elbows, and buckled it tightly in place, trapping her two arms. He pulled the leather straps over Mystique's shoulders, crossed them in front of her upper chest, before tuck them back under her arms. He mated the straps up to a pair of buckles fitted to the back of belt of the mono-glove, and buckled the straps up tightly.

It was only when Mystique's upper arms were properly secured that the man untied her wrists from her ankles. Pushing up her arms by her wrists, he brought them together, and forced her to lean forward. This made it impossible for her to struggle as he held her wrists together with one hand, and placed her arms into the mono-glove with the other through the opening. He released her arms once they were fully covered by the mono-glove. Then he began to lace up the mono-glove, threading the ends of the lacing through the grommets, pulling the ends across the opening, to repeat the process again. When he was finally done, the crisscross lacing up the back of the mono-glove held Mystique's arms snuggly against one another. Her elbows, while not pushed together, was sufficiently close to force her to thrust out her bare chest even further, and to push back her buttocks even more. Her wrists were pressed flat against one another, rendering them useless.

The man picked up another item. For a moment, Mystique thought that it was another corset, for it too had a narrow waist with bones inserted at regular intervals along its lengths. She realized that it was too small for a corset, and when the man got her to kneel down and placed it around her throat, she understood that it was a collar.

The collar was quite a tall affair, reaching up from her shoulders to her chin, completely covering her long neck. The flared top of the collar rested against her chin, pushing it up such that she could not lower her head. The collar also prevented her from turning her head, as its sides pressed in under her lower jaw. After buckling the collar securely in place, the man attached a snap hook at the end of a leash to a D-ring in the front of the collar. He tugged on the collar, and forced her to rise to her feet.

The man let Mystique look at herself in the mirror. She found a vision of fetish and bondage, and of blue and white, staring back at her with its yellow eyes. She must admit that she looked very stunning in her costume, despite the extreme discomfort that almost every part of her body was being subjected to.

While Mystique had on occasions worn fetish costumes in the past, they were never as severe as those that had been put on her now, as she could manipulate her body to fit into them. The sensation of having her body crushed, pushed, molded and otherwise forced to fit a certain shape by dint of severe fetish items was something else. It made her feel completely controlled. At the same time, the stressful posture that she was forced to adopt by the mono-glove, the corset and the boots made her body pose in an overly sexual, but very attractive manner.

Looking at her own reflection, Mystique realized that she had finally been turned into an object of sexual slavery.

"I think you are now ready for the final phase of your training." the man said, tugging the leash on her collar. Mystique followed him as he walked up to the mirror wall. He placed his hand in one of his pants pocket, and she heard the sound of a button being pressed. The wall slid aside quietly, exposing the man's office on the other side. Then the man led her over the threshold from the cell into the office.

Mystique followed the man as well as she could as he led her across his office towards a door on the other side. The door slid aside as they approached, and the man led her into a small octagonal room behind. The room was bare with the exception of a chair in the center.

The chair was large, and it was made of transparent plastic, making it look rather like an egg, with one side sliced off. The chair had a pair of doors that swung out on either side of it. Through the clear exterior, she could see wirings running inside the chair.

The chair had a deep seat. The cushions of the chair were made from soft plastic pumped full of air. Right at the center of the seat of the chair were two rubbery and transparent objects, rising out from the seat of the chair, arranged one before the other. The one in front was long and slender, rising up to a point that resembled the head of a penis. The one in the rear was shorter, but fatter, and looked like a cone with a flanged base. No imagination was required to see what they were for. Indeed, Mystique could see the wirings and motors within the dildo and the butt-plug.

Mystique was led up to the chair, and turned around such that her back faced the chair.

"Push out your butt." the man ordered. Mystique obeyed, knowing what he wanted. The man slowly lowered her down onto the seat of the chair. She felt first the tip of the dildo enter her, then the tip of the butt-plug pushing into her anus. She grunted as she slid down onto them and her bare buttocks came to rest on the seat.

The man pushed Mystique's head down, and unbuckled the ball gag's strap. He took the ball gag out of her mouth, and dropped it onto the floor. The ball gag was quickly replaced by another gag that the man retrieved from the side of the chair. This gag was fitted to the inside of a broad white leather strap. The white rubber was shaped like the tip of a penis, but larger than what a man's penis would normally be, it being almost two and a half inches wide. The man placed the gag into Mystique's mouth, and she found that it forced her to stretch her jaws open widely. As the man buckled the leather strap tightly against her mouth, ensuring that she would not be able to expel the gag, she noticed that the front of the gag was fitted with two tubes that ran from gag down to the sides of the chair.

The man now pushed Mystique back into the seat. She found that her bound arms behind her fitted nicely into the back of the seat. The sides of the seat fitted her snuggly, lending her arms some support, so that they would not get too uncomfortable, but at the same time, it made it impossible for her to move. As her head was pushed back into the seat, she found that the situation was the same with her head. The cushioning there fitted the back, the top and the sides of her head snuggly, pressing in on the head to hold it tight and unmoving. As she glanced down, she saw the man moving her ballet booted legs back, placing them into slots on the cushioning extending down from the seat. Like her head, torso and arms, her legs were now held firmly by the cushioning of the chair.

Now that Mystique was firmly seated in the chair, the man picked up two items that had been hooked to the sides. These resembled clear plastic cups. A small metal cylinder was fitted to the curved bottom of each of the cups. Each of the cylinders was fitted with wirings that ran to the sides of the chair. The man knelt down before Mystique, and fitted one of the plastic cups over her right breast. It was a tight fit, and the man had to squeeze her breast into the cup. She noted how her blue scales showed up prominently when pressed against the plastic of the cup. She also noticed how the tightness prevented the cup from popping off. Finally, she saw that the cylinder at the end of the tube fitted exactly over her right nipple. When the man was done with her right breast, he fitted the other cup onto her left breast.

The man stood up. He walked away for a moment, and returned with a pair of goggles. Unlike conventional goggles, this did not have transparent lenses. Instead, there were two steel tubes where the lenses should be. The goggles also lacked an elastic strap that ran around the back of the head. Instead, it had clips on either side. The man fitted one of the clips to a metal catch on the cushion next to Mystique's left temple. Then he stretched the goggles across Mystique's eyes, and fitted the other clip to an identical catch next to her right temple. When this was done, all light was cut off, and Mystique was placed in darkness.

She could only hear the rest of the man's preparations. The doors of the chair were now closed upon Mystique. The inside of the doors were fitted with more cushion, and as the doors clicked shut, the cushions pressed down firmly onto her body, pushing against her corseted torso and her legs, as well as her brow and the point of her chin. This rendered her completely incapable of any movement.

For a while, nothing happened, and Mystique was left alone with only the sound of her slow breathing. Then suddenly, images began to appear before her. The tubes on her goggles contained small screens. The first images that she saw was of herself seated in the transparent chair, all wired up. She looked strange, a creature of blue scales with red hair, dressed in white bondage costume, and completely encased in transparent plastic.

Almost at once, the images changed. Mystique saw footages of women being put in bondage, whipped, raped or otherwise subjected to some perverse sexual torment. These footages would be interspersed with footages of her own capture, tortures and training.

The dildo and butt-plug fitted into her began to buzz, slowly at first, but eventually rising up towards powerful pulses. These were joined very quickly by vibrations coming from the cups placed around her breasts. The steel cylinders must have contained strong motors, for she felt shocks of tremors flow through her breasts into her body.

Mystique began to thrash and moan in the chair. It held her firmly, reducing her struggles to nothing more than quivers. She fought against the cushions imprisoning her as her sensitive spots were over-stimulated, accompanied by the images being flashed across her eyes. When the images came to the point where she was whipped or raped, they would increase in pitch and vigor until she was being shaken to the core.

To add to her torment and to emphasize her helplessness, the images of her previous ordeals would be interrupted by live feeds of herself being tormented in the transparent chair. She could see herself writhing in the chair, struggling against her bondage. During these periods, the dildo, butt-plug and the breast cups fitted to her would vibrate with especial strength.

Voices would be constantly fed through a pair of speakers fitted to the cushions on either side of Mystique's head, telling her what a worthless bitch she was, that she was only fit to be a slave, that she must obey every command given by the man. These voices would be mixed in together with the jarring sounds of heavy metal music pounding into her head.

Mystique was kept in the chair for a very long time. She was constantly being subjected to images of sexual assault and perversions, or to recordings of her own ordeals, while her erotic zones were mercilessly stimulated. There was no intermission or rest period in her torment. She was not taken out of the chair to be fed or for her to relieve herself. She was fed a special liquid diet through the tube in her gag. The gag was pierced by a steel tube, all the way to the back of her throat, and all she could do was shallow whatever it was that the man was giving her.

This liquid product produced only urine as a waste product, and Mystique could only relieve herself where she sat. A clear plastic funnel fitted to the chair just in front of the dildo would drain the urine away. To add to her humiliation, cameras would zoom in on her crotch when she relieved herself, feeding the live images back to her goggles in excruciatingly fine details.

As time passed, Mystique's mind began to go. Her entire existence became centered around the sexual depravity being flashed before her eyes, and the over-stimulation of her body. She was sent into orgasm after orgasm, producing large amount of juice from her tract. All memories of who she was, what she had been, of her past identity as an independent being, receded further and further away as this new reality completely dominated her senses.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mystique's mind snapped, and she let out an animal scream into her gag. If she could only have seen the man monitoring her through an elaborate CCTV set-up, she would have seen a smile of triumph cross his face.

"Yes, the results were much better than we expected." the man said as he leaned back in his chair. He was using a Bluetooth hands free set clipped to his right ear, while he typed something into the laptop on his large desk made from glass. He was not in the office but at home, but it was constructed very much like the former, with grey concrete walls. To his right was a large scenic window that looked out onto a lake.

The door to his room opened, and the man looked up. A blue figure stepped through the door.

"Here she is now." the man said into the mouthpiece, and typed a command on the keyboard. A webcam mounted on the top of an LCD monitor on the desk swiveled around and focused on the blue figure.

It was Mystique. She was wearing a pair of white ballet boots, but unlike her last pair, this one reached all the way up her legs, almost to her crotch. It was made of white PVC fabric, with scaly patterns embossed on its surface.

Besides the boots, Mystique was wearing a white apron. It too was made from PVC fabric, embossed with a scaly pattern. It covered her only from her waist down, leaving her blue breasts uncovered. If an observer thought that her breasts had grown larger, he would be correct. The man had reduced the dosage of the drug suppressing her ability to manipulate her own body. She had increased the size of her breasts at his command, as well as reduced her waistline to produce a sharp hourglass figure. Her breasts juggled as she walked forward towards his desk.

To complement the apron, Mystique wore a white maid's cap on top of her red hair, which she had manipulate to grow into almost a lion's mane around her face. The cap was kept on top of her head by a pair of straps that reached down to under her cheeks. Here, the ends of the straps were secured to a broad white leather strap encircling her jaws, which was held wide open with a large white rubber ring. To prevent her from drooling too much, a large white rubber plug had been placed firmly in the center of the ring. The plug was fitted with a light chain at its center. The other end of the chain was attached to a D-ring on the front of the white posture collar around her throat.

Mystique wore no other costume, as the man wanted to admire the dark blue scales on her body.

Mystique was proffering a tray in her raised hands. On the tray was a coffee set, with a steel pot and a steel cup. She tottered carefully over to the desk. As she did so, the webcam continued to focus on her, swiveling to keep her image centered. She set the tray down onto the desk. As she stood back, the pair of white leather mittens on her hands was revealed. They covered her hands entirely and stretch out her fingers. The mouths of the mittens were fitted with heavy white leather cuffs buckled tightly around her wrists. These were linked together by a short silver chain.

"On your knees, slave." the man ordered. Mystique obeyed instantly, getting down onto her knees with great skill. The leather of her boots squeaked as she lowered herself down. The man reached for the rubber plug in her ring gag, and pulled it loose. He then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. He lowered his pants and freed his penis from his boxer shorts.

Without any prompting from the man, Mystique knew what she was supposed to do. She stuck out her tongue through the ring gag, and began to lick the semi-hard penis of the man. She worked expertly, having been trained for weeks by the man. Soon, she was able to bring his penis to full hardness. As it stood rigid between his legs, Mystique moved her self until she was kneeling between his legs. She straightened her back, and craned her neck forward, before lowering her mouth down over the erect penis. The penis slipped through the ring gag into her mouth, and she began to massage it with her tongue, even as she moved her mouth up and down the head of his penis.

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed a voice in the earphone of the Bluetooth set, loud enough for even Mystique to hear it.

The man made no reply, he was being brought expertly towards an orgasm. As Mystique continued to bob her head slowly up and down, tonguing his penis just under its head, and pressing down on his shank with her lips, he began to moan with pleasure. Then the man ejaculated, shooting his sperm into the back of her throat. She was skilled enough to quickly lift her head, and let the sperm flow out of her mouth together with the drool that had accumulated there.

"You have done well, slave." the man said, as he replaced the rubber plug back into Mystique's ring gag.

Mystique's yellow eyes lit up at this praise, and she nuzzled her head against the man's inner thighs. The man laughed, but gently pushed her away.

"Not now, slave. I am conducting business." the man said. For a moment, there was a look of disappointment on Mystique's face, but she recovered quickly. She stood back up carefully on the tips of her ballet boots.

"Yes, yes. I think we're ready for Phase Two." the man said as he watched her walk slowly out of the room, her scaly buttocks swaying behind her.

#####


End file.
